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i 







A LITTLE PILGRIM 


i. 

IN THE UNSEEN. 

She had been talking of dying only the evening before, 
with a friend, and had described her own sensations after 
a long illness, when she had been at the point of death. 
“ I suppose,” she said, “ that I was as nearly gone as any 
one ever was to come back again. There was no pain in 
it, only a sense of sinking down, down — through the bed 
as if nothing could hold me or give me support enough — 
but no pain.” And then they had spoken of another 
friend in the same circumstances, who also had come back 
from the very verge, and who described her sensations as 
those of one floating upon a summer sea without pain or 
suffering, in a lovely nook of the Mediterranean, blue as 
the sky. These soft and soothing images of the passage 
which all men dread had been talked over with low voices, 
yet with smiles and a grateful sense that “ the warm 
precincts of the cheerful day” were once more familiar to 
both. And very cheerfully she went to rest that night, 
talking of what was to be done on the morrow, and fell 
asleep sweetly in her little room, with its shaded light and 
curtained window, and little pictures on the dim walls. 
All was quiet in the house: soft breathing of the sleepers, 


4 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


soft murmuring of the spring wind outside, a wintry 
moon very clear and full in the skies, a little town all 
hushed and quiet, everything lying defenseless, uncon- 
scious, in the safe keeping of God. 

How soon she woke no one can tell. She woke and 
lay quite still, half roused, half hushed, in that soft 
languor that attends a happy waking. She was happy 
always, in the peace of a heart that was humble and faith- 
ful and pure, but yet had been used to wake to a conscious- 
ness of little pains and troubles, such as even to her 
meekness were sometimes hard to bear. But on this 
morning there were none of these. She lay in a kind of 
hush of happiness and ease, not caring to make any 
further movement, lingering over the sweet sensation of 
that waking. She had no desire to move nor to break the 
spell of the silence and peace. It was still very early, she 
supposed, and probably it might be hours yet before any 
one came to call her. It might even be that she should 
sleep again. She had no wish to move, she lay at such 
luxurious ease and calm. But by and by, as she came to 
full possession of her waking senses, it appeared to her 
that there was some change in the atmosphere, in the 
scene. There began to steal into the air about her, the 
soft dawn as of a summer morning, the lovely blueness of the 
first opening of daylight before the sun. It could not be 
the light of the moon, which she had seen before she went 
to bed; and all was so still, that it could not be the bus- 
tling, wintry day which comes at that time of the year late, 
to find the world awake before it. This was different; it 
was like the summer dawn, a soft suffusion of light grow- 
ing every moment. And by and by it occurred to her that 
she was not in the little room where she had lain down. 
There were no dim walls or roof, her little pictures were 
all gone, the curtains at her window. The discovery gave 
her no uneasiness in that delightful calm. She lay still 
to think of it all, to wonder, yet undisturbed. It half 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


5 


amused her Chat these things should be changed, but did. 
not rouse her yet with any shock of alteration. The light 
grew fuller and fuller round, growing into day, clearing 
her eyes from the sweet mist of the first waking. Then 
she raised herself upon her arm. She was not in her room, 
she was in no scene she knew. Indeed, it was scarcely a 
scene at all, nothing but light, so soft and lovely, that it 
soothed and caressed her eyes. She thought all at once of 
a summer morning when she was a child, when she had 
woke in the deep night which yet was day, early, so early 
that the birds were scarcely astir, and had risen up with a 
delicious sense of daring and of being all alone in the 
mystery of the sunrise, in the unawakened world which 
lay at her feet to be explored, as if she were Eve just 
entering upon Eden. It was curious how all those childish 
sensations, long forgotten, came back to her as she found 
herself so unexpectedly out of her sleep in the open air and 
light. In the recollection of that lovely hour, with a smile 
at herself, so different as she now knew herself to be, she 
was moved to rise and look a little more closely about her, 
and see where she was. 

When I called her a little Pilgrim, I do no not mean 
that she was a child; on the contrary, she was not even 
young. She was little by nature, with as little flesh and 
blood as was consistent with mortal life; and she was one 
of those who are always little for love. The tongue found 
diminutives for her, the heart kept her in a perpetual 
youth. She was so modest and so gentle, that she always 
came last, so long as there was any one whom she could 
put before her. But this little body, and the soul which 
was not little, and the heart which was big and great, had 
known all the round of sorrows that fill a woman’s life, 
without knowing any of its warmer blessings. She had 
nursed the sick, she had entertained the weary, she had 
consoled the dying. She had gone about the world, 
which had no prize or recompense for her, with a smile. 


6 


JL little pilgrim. 


Her little presence was always bright. She was not clever; 
you might have said she had no mind at all; but so wise 
and right and tender a heart, that it was as good as genius. 
This is to let you know what this little Pilgrim had been. 

She rose up, and it was strange how like she felt to the 
child she remembered in that still summer morning so 
many years ago. Her little body, which had been worn 
and racked with pain, felt as light and unconscious of 
itself as then. She took her first step forward * with the 
same sense of pleasure, yet of awe, suppressed delight and 
daring and wild adventure, yet perfect safety. But then 
the recollection of the little room in which she had fallen 
asleep came quickly, strangely over her, confusing her 
mind. “I must be dreaming, I supppose,” she said to 
herself, regretfully, for it was all so sweet that she 
wished it to be true. Her movement called her at- 
tention to herself, and she found that she was dressed, 
not in her night-dress, as she had lain down, but in a 
dress she did not know. She paused for a moment to look 
at it, and wonder. She had never seen it before; she did 
not make out how it was made, or what stuff it was, but 
it fell so pleasantly about her, it was so soft and light, that 
in her confused state she abandoned that subject with only 
an additional sense of pleasure. And now the atmosphere 
became more distinct to her. She saw that under her feet 
was a greenness as of close velvet turf, both cool and 
warm, cool and soft to touch, but with no damp in it, as 
might have been at that early hour, and with flowers 
showing here and there. She stood looking round her, 
not able to identify the landscape because she was still 
confused a little, and then walked softly on, all the time 
afraid lest she should awake and lose the sweetness of it 
all, and the sense of rest and happiness. She felt so light, 
so airy, as if she could skim across the field like any child. 
It was bliss enough to breathe and move, with every organ 
so free. After more than fifty years of hard service in the 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


7 


world, to feel like this, even in a dream! She smiled to 
herself at her own pleasure; and then once more, yet more 
potently, there came back upon her the appearance of her 
room in which she had fallen asleep. How had she got 
from there to here? Had she been carried away in her 
sleep, or was it only a dream, and would she by and by 
find herself within the four dim walls again? Then this 
shadow of recollection faded away once more, and she 
moved forward, walking in a soft rapture over the delicious 
turf. Presently she came to a little mound, upon which 
she paused to look about her. Every moment she saw a 
little further; blue hills far away, extending in long, sweet 
distance, an indefinite landscape, but fair and vast, so that 
there could be seen no end to it, not even the line of the 
horizon, — save at one side, where there seemed to be a 
great shadowy gateway, and something dim beyond. She 
turned from the brightness to look at this, and when she 
had looked for some time, she saw, what pleased her still 
more, though she had been so happy before, people coming 
in. They were too far off for her to see clearly, but many 
came, each apart, one figure only at a time. To watch 
them amused her in the delightful leisure of her mind. 
Who were they? she wondered; but no doubt soon some of 
them would come this way, and she would see. Then sud- 
denly she seemed to hear, as if in answer to her question, 
some one say, “ Those who are coming in are the people 
who have died on earth.” “Died!” she said to herself 
aloud, with a wondering sense of the inappropriateness of 
the word which almost came the length of laughter. In 
this sweet air, with such a sense of life about, to suggest 
such an idea was almost ludicrous. She was so occupied 
with this, that she did not look round to see who the 
speaker might be. She thought it over, amused, but with 
some new confusion of the mind. Then she said, “ Per- 
haps I have died too,” with a laugh to herself at the ab- 
surdity of the thought. 


8 


A LITTLE PILGBIM. 


“Yes,” said the other voice, echoing that gentle laugh 
of hers, “you have died too.” 

She turned round, and saw another standing by her, 
a woman, younger and fairer, and more stately than her- 
self, but of so sweet a countenance that our little Pilgrim 
felt no shyness, but recognized a friend at once. She was 
more occupied looking at this new face, and feeling her- 
self at once so much happier (though she had been so 
happy before) in finding a companion who would tell her 
what everything was, than in considering what these 
words might mean. But just then once more the recol- 
lection of the four walls, with their little pictures hang- 
ing, and the window with its curtains drawn, seemed to 
come round her for a moment, so that her whole soul was 
in a confusion. And as this vision slowly faded away 
(though she could not tell which was the vision, the dark- 
ened room or this lovely light), her attention came back to 
the words at which she had laughed, and at which the 
other had laughed as she repeated them. Died? — was it 
possible that this could be the meaning of it all? 

“Died?” she said, looking with wonder in her compan- 
ion’s face, which smiled back to her. “ But do you 

mean You cannot mean I have never been so 

well: I am so strong: I have no trouble — anywhere: lam 
full of life.” 

The other nodded her beautiful head with a more beau- 
tiful smile, and the little Pilgrim burst out in a great cry 
of joy, and said, — 

“Is this all? Is it over? — is it all over? Is it possible 
that this can be all?” 

“ Were you afraid of it?” the other said. 

There was a little agitation for the moment in her heart. 
She was so glad, so relieved and thankful, that it took 
away her breath. She could not get over the wonder 
of it. 

“ To think one should look forward to it so long, and 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


9 




i 

■ 

I 


wonder, and be even unhappy trying to divine what it will 
be — and this all!” 

“ Ah, but the angel was very gentle with you,” said the 
young woman; “you were so tender and worn, that he 
only smiled and took you sleeping. There are other ways. 
But it is always wonderful to think it is over, as you say. 5 

The little Pilgrim could do nothing but talk of it, as 
one does after a very great event. “ Are you sure, quite 
sure, it is so?” she said. “It would be dreadful to find it 
only a dream, to go to sleep again, and wake up — 

there ” This thought troubled her for a moment. The 

vision of the bedchamber came back; but this time she 
felt it was only a vision. “Were you afraid too?” she 
said, in a low voice. 

“I never thought of it at all,” the beautiful stranger 
said; “I did not think it would come to me. But I was 
very sorry for the others to whom it came, and grudged 
that they should lose the beautiful earth, and life, and all 
that was so sweet.” 

“ My dear!” cried the Pilgrim, as if she had never died, 
“oh, but this is far sweeter! And the heart is so light, 
and it is happiness only to breathe. Is it heaven here? It 
must be heaven.” 

“I do not know if it is heaven. We have so many 
things to learn. They cannot tell you everything at once,” 
said the beautiful lady. “ I have seen some of the people 
I was sorry for, and when I told them, we laughed — as you 
and I laughed just now — for pleasure. 55 

“That makes me think,” said the little Pilgrim; “if I 
have died, as you say — which is so strange, and me so liv- 
ing — if I have died, they will have found it out. The 
house will be all dark, and they will be breaking their 
hearts. Oh, how could I forget them in my selfishness, 
and be happy! I so light-hearted, while they ” 

She sat down hastily, and covered her face with her 
hands and wept. The other looked at her for a moment, 


10 


A LITTLE PILGRIM, 


then kissed her for comfort, and cried too. The two happy 
creatures sat there weeping together, thinking of those 
they had left behind, with an exquisite grief which was 
not unhappiness, which was sweet with love and pity. 
“ And oh,” said the little Pilgrim, “what can we do to 
tell them not to grieve? Cannot you send? cannot you 
speak? cannot one go to tell them?” 

The heavenly stranger shook her head. 

“ It is not well, they all say. Sometimes one has been 
permitted; but they do not know you,” she said, with a 
pitiful look in her sweet eyes. “ My mother told me that 
her heart was so sick for me, she was allowed to go; and 
she went and stood by me, and spoke to me, and I did not 
know her. She came back so sad and sorry, that they 
took her at once to our Father; and there, you know, she 
found that it was all well. All is well when you are 
there.” 

“ Ah,” said the little Pilgrim, “ I have been thinking of 
other things. Of how happy I was, and of them; but never 
of the Father, — just as if I had not died.” 

The other smiled upon her with a wonderful smile. 

“ Do you think he will be offended — our Father — as if 
he were one of us?” she said. 

And then the little Pilgrim, in her sudden grief to have 
forgotten him, became conscious of a new rapture unex- 
plainable in words. She felt his understanding to envelop 
her little spirit with a soft and clear penetration, and that 
nothing she did or said could ever be misconceived more. 
“Will you take me to him?” she said, trembling yet glad, 
clasping her hands. And once again the other shook her 
head. 

“They will take us both when it is time,” she said: 
“ we do not go at our own will. But I have seen our 
Brother ” 

“ Oh, take me to him!” the little Pilgrim cried. “ Let 
me see his face! I have so many things to say to him. 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 11 

I want to ask him — oh, take me to where I can see his 
face!” 

And then once again the heavenly lady smiled. 

“I have seen him,” she said. “ He is always about 
— now here, now there. He will come and see you, per- 
haps when you are not thinking. But when he pleases. 
We do not think here of what we will ” 

The little Pilgrim sat very still, wondering at all this. 
She had thought when a soul left the earth that it went at 
once to God, and thought of nothing more, except wor- 
ship and singing of praises. But this was different from 
her thoughts. She sat and pondered and wondered. She 
was baffled at many points. She was not changed, as she 
expected, but so much like herself; still — still perplexed, 
and feeling herself foolish; not understanding; toiling 
after a something which she could not grasp. The only 
difference was that it was no trouble to her now. She 
smiled at herself and at her dullness, feeling sure that by 
and by she would understand. 

“ And don’t you wonder too?” she said to her companion, 
which was a speech such as she used to make upon the 
earth, when people thought her little remarks disjointed, 
and did not always see the connection of them. But her 
friend of heaven knew what she meant. 

“I do nothing but wonder,” she said, “for it is all so 
natural, not what we thought.” 

“ Is it long since you have been here?” the Pilgrim said. 

“I came before you; but how long or how short I can- 
not tell, for that is not how we count. We count only by 
what happens to us. And nothing yet has happened to 
me, except that I have seen our Brother. My mother sees 
him always. That means she has lived here a long time, 
and well ” 

“Is it possible to live ill — in heaven?” The little Pil- 
grim’s eyes grew large, as if they were going to have tears 
in them, and a little shadow seemed to come over her. 


12 


a little pilgrim. 


But the other laughed softly, and restored all her confi- 
dence. 

“ I have told you I do not know if it is heaven or not. 
No one does ill, but some do little, and some do much, 
just as it used to be. Do you remember in Dante there 
was a lazy spirit that stayed about the gates, and never got 
further? But perhaps you never read that.” 

“ I was never clever,” said the little Pilgrim, wistfully; 
“ no, I never read it. I wish I had known more.” 

Upon which the beautiful lady kissed her again to give 
her courage, and said: 

“ It does not matter at all. It all comes to you, whether 
you have known it or not.” 

“ Then your mother came here long ago?” said the 
Pilgrim. “Ah, then I shall see my mother too.” 

“ Oh, very soon, as soon as she can come; but there are 
so many things to do. Sometimes we can go and meet 
those who are coming; but it is not always so. I remember 
that she had a message. She could not leave her business, 
you may be sure, or she would have been here.” 

“ Then you know my mother? Oh, and my dearest 
father, too?” 

“ We all know each other,” the lady said, with a smile. 

“And you? did you come to meet me — only out of kind- 
ness, though I do not know you?” the little Pilgrim 
said. 

“ I am nothing but idler,” said the beautiful lady, 
making acquaintance. I am of little use as yet. I was 
very hard worked before I came here, and they think it 
well that we should sit in the sun and take a little rest, 
and find things out.” 

Then the little Pilgrim sat still and mused, and felt in 
her heart that she had found many things out. What she 
had heard had been wonderful, and it was more wonderful 
still to be sitting here all alone, save for this lady, yet so 
happy and at ease. She wanted to sing, she was so happy; 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


13 


but remembered that she was old, and had lost her voice; 
and then remembered again that she was no longer old, 
and perhaps had found it again. And then it occurred to 
her to remember how she had learned to sing, and how 
beautiful her sister’s voice was, and how heavenly to hear 
her, — which made her remember that this dear sister 
would be weeping, not singing, down where she had come 
from; and immediately the tears stood in her eyes. 

“ Oh,” she said, “I never thought we should cry when 
we came here. I thought there were no tears in heaven.” 

“Did you think, then, that we were all turned into 
stone?” cried the beautiful lady. “ It says God shall wipe 
away all tears from our faces, which is not like saying 
there are to be no tears.” 

Upon which the little Pilgrim, glad that it was per- 
mitted to be sorry, though she was so happy, allowed her- 
self to think upon the place she had so lately left. And 
she seemed to see her little room again, with all the pict- 
ures hanging as she had left them, and the house dark- 
ened, and the dear faces she knew all sad and troubled, 
and to hear them saying over to each other all the little 
careless words she had said as if they were out of the 
Scriptures, and crying if any one but mentioned her name, 
and putting on crape and black dresses, and lamenting as if 
that which had happened was something very terrible. 
She cried at this, and yet felt half inclined to laugh, but 
would not, because it would be disrespectful to those she 
loved. One thing did not occur to her, and that was that 
they would be carrying her body, which she had left be- 
hind her, away to the grave. She did not think of this, 
because she was not aware of the loss, and felt far too much 
herself to think that there was another part of her being 
buried in the ground. From this she was aroused by her 
companion asking her a question. 

“Have you left many there?” she said. 

“ No one,” said the little Pilgrim, “ to whom I was 


14 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


the first on earth; but they loved me all the same; and if 
I could only, only let them know 55 

“But I left one to whom I was the first on earth / 5 said 
the other with tears in her beautiful eyes: “and -oh, 
how glad I should be to be less happy if he might be less 
sad!” 

“ And you cannot go? you cannot go to him and tell 
him? Oh, I wish / 5 cried the little Pilgrim; but then she 
paused, for the wish died all away in her heart into a 
tender love for this poor, sorrowful man whom she did not 
know. This gave her the sweetest pang she had ever felt, 
for she knew that all was well, and yet was so sorry, and 
would have willingly given up her happiness for his. All 
this the lady read in her eyes or her heart, and loved her 
for it; and they took hands and were silent together, 
thinking of those they had left, as we upon earth think of 
those who have gone from us, but only with far more un- 
derstanding and far greater love. “ And have you never 
been able to do anything for him?” our Pilgrim said. 

Then the beautiful lady’s face flushed all over with the 
most heavenly warmth and light. Her smile ran over like 
the bursting out of the sun. “Oh, I will tell you,” she 
said. “There was a moment when he was very sad and 
perplexed, not knowing what to think; there was some- 
thing he could not understand. Nor could I understand, 
nor did I know what it was, until it was said to me, ‘ You 
may go and tell him . 5 And I went in the early morning 
before he was awake, and kissed him, and said it in his 
ear. He woke up in a moment, and understood, and 
everything was clear to him. Afterward I heard him say, 
‘It is true that the night brings counsel. I had been 
troubled and distressed all day long, but in the morning 
it was quite clear to me . 5 And the other answered, ‘Your 
brain was refreshed, and that made your judgment clear . 5 
But they never knew it was I ! That was a great delight. 
The dear souls, they are so foolish / 5 she cried, with the 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


15 


sweetest laughter, that ran into tears. “ One cries because 
one is so happy; it is just a silly old habit,” she said. 

“ And you were not grieved — it did not hurt you — that 
he did not know ” 

“ Oh, not then, not then! I did not go to him for that. 
When you have been here a little longer, you will see the 
difference. When you go for yourself, out of impatience, 
because it still seems to you that you must know best, and 
they don’t know you, then it strikes to your heart; but 
when you go to help them — ah,” she cried, “when ho 
comes, how much I shall have to tell him! ‘ You thought 
it was sleep, .when it was I; when you woke so fresh and 
clear, it was I that kissed you; you thought it your duty 
to me to be sad afterward, and were angry with yourself 
because you had wronged me of the first thoughts of your 
waking — when it was all me, all through!’ ” 

“ I begin to understand,” said the little Pilgrim. “ But 
why should they not see us, and why should not we tell 
them? It would seem so natural. If they saw us, it 
would make them so happy and so sure.” 

Upon this the lady shook her head. 

“ The worst of it is not that they are not sure, it is the 
parting. If this makes us sorry here, how can they escape 
the sorrow of it, even if they saw us? — for we must be 
parted. We cannot go back to live with them, or why 
should we have died? And then we must all live our lives, 
they in their way, we in ours. We must not weigh them 
down, but only help them when it is seen that there is 
need for it. All this we shall know better by and by.” 

“ You make it so clear, and your face is so bright,” said 
our little Pilgrim gratefully, “ you must have known a 
great deal, and understood even when you were in the 
world.” 

“ I was as foolish as I could be,” said the other, with 
her laugh that was as sweet as music; “ yet thought I 


16 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


knew, and they thought I knew. But all that does not 
matter now.” 

“ I think it matters, for look how much you have showed 
me. Bat tell me one thing more: how was it said to you 
that you must go and tell him? Was it some one who 
spoke? Was it ” 

Her face grew so bright that all the past brightness was 
as a dull sky to this. It gave out such a light of happi- 
ness, that the little Pilgrim was dazzled. 

“ I was wandering about,” she said, “ to see this new 
place. My mother had come back between two errands 
she had, and had come to see me and tell me ^every thing; 
and I was straying about, wondering what I was to do, 
when suddenly I saw some one coming along, as it might 
be now ” 

She paused and looked up, and the little Pilgrim looked 
up too, with her heart beating, but there was no one. 
Then she gave a little sigh, and turned and listened again. 

“ I had not been looking for him, or thinking. You 
know my my mind is too light; I am pleased with what- 
ever is before me. And I was so curious, for my mother 
had told me many things; when suddenly I caught sight 
of him passing by. He was going on, and when I saw 
this a panic seized me, lest he should pass and say noth- 
ing. I do not know what I did. I flung myself upon his 
robe, and got hold of it, — or at least I think so. I was in 
such an agony lest he should pass and never notice me. 
But that was my folly. He pass! As if that could be!” 

“ And what did he say to you?” cried the little Pilgrim, 
her heart almost aching, it beat so high with sympathy 
and expectation. 

The lady looked at her for a little without saying any- 
thing. 

“I cannot tell you,” she said, “anymore than I can 
tell if this is heaven. It is a mystery. When you see him 
you will know. It will be all you have ever hoped for, and 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


17 


more besides, for he understands everything. He knows 
what is in our hearts about tfiose we have left, and why he 
sent for us before them. There is no need to tell him any- 
thing; he knows. He will come when it is time; and 
after you have seen him you will know what to do.” 

Then the beautiful lady turned her eyes toward the gate, 
and while the little Pilgrim was still gazing, disappeared 
from her, and went to comfort some other stranger. They 
were dear friends always, and met often, but not again in 
the same way. 

When she was thus left alone again, the little Pilgrim 
sat still, upon the grassy mound, quite tranquil and happy, 
without wishing to move. There was such a sense of well- 
being in her, that she liked to sit there and look about 
her, and breathe the delightful air, like the air of a sum- 
mer morning, without wishing for anything. 

“ How idle I am!” she said to herself, in the very words 
she had often used before she died; but then she was idle 
from weakness, and now from happiness. She wanted for 
nothing. To be alive was so sweet. There was a great 
deal to think about in what she had heard, but she did not 
even think about that, only resigned herself to the delight 
of sitting there in the sweet air and being happy. Many 
people were coming and going, and they all knew her, and 
smiled upon her, and those who were at a distance would 
wave their hands. This did not surprise her at all, for 
though she was a stranger, she too felt that she knew them 
all; but that they should be so kind was a delight to her 
which words could not tell. She sat and mused very 
sweetly about all that had been told her, and wondered 
whether she too might go sometimes, and with a kiss and 
a whisper clear up something that was dark in the mind of 
some one who loved her. “I that never was clever!” she 
said to herself with a smile. And chiefly she thought of a 
friend whom she loved, who was often in great perplexity, 


18 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


and did not know how to guide herself amid the difficul- 
ties of the world. 

The little Pilgrim half laughed with delight, and then 
half cried with longing to go, as the beautiful lady had done, 
and make something clear that had been dark before, to 
this friend. As she was thinking what a pleasure it 
would be, some one came up to her, crossing over the 
flowery greenness, leaving the path on purpose. This was 
a being younger than the lady who had spoken to her be- 
fore, with flowing hair all crisped with touches of sunshine, 
and a dress all white and soft, like the feathers of a white 
dove. There was something in her face different from 
that of the other, by which the little Pilgrim knew some- 
how, without knowing her, that she had come here as a 
child, and grown up in this celestial place. She was tall 
and fair, and came along with so musical a motion, as if 
her foot scarcely touched the ground, that she might have 
had wings: and the little Pilgrim indeed was not sure as 
she watched, whether it might not perhaps be an angel; 
for she knew that there were angels among the blessed peo- 
ple who were coming and going about, but had not been 
able yet to find one out. She knew that this new comer 
was coming to her, and turned toward her with a smile 
and a throb at her heart of expectation. But when the 
heavenly maiden drew nearer, her face, though it was so 
fair, looked to the Pilgrim like another face, which she 
had known very well, — indeed, like the homely and troubled 
face of the friend of whom she had been thinking. And 
so she smiled all the more, and held out her hands and 
said, “ I am sure I know you;” upon which the other kissed 
her and said, “ We all know each other; but I have seen 
you often before you came here,” and knelt down by her, 
among the flowers that were growing, just in front of some 
tall lilies that grew over her, and made a lovely canopy over 
her head. There was something in her face that was like 
a child: her mouth so soft, as if it had never spoken any- 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


19 


thing but heavenly words, her eyes brown and golden, as 
if they were filled with light. She took the little Pilgrim’s 
hands in hers, and held them and smoothed them between 
her own. These hands had been very thin and worn be- 
fore; but now, when the Pilgrim looked at them, she saw 
that they became softer and whiter every moment with the 
touch of this immortal youth. 

“ I knew you were coming,” said the maiden ; “ when 
my mother has wanted me I have seen you there. And 
you were thinking of her now: that was how I found 
you.” 

“ Do you know, then, what one thinks?” said the little 
Pilgrim with wondering eyes. 

“It is in the air, and when it concerns us it comes to 
us like the breeze. But we, who are the children here, 
we feel it more quickly than you.” 

“Are you a child?” said the little Pilgrim, “ or are 
you an angel? Sometimes you are like a child; but then 

your face shines, and you are like You must have 

some name for it here; there is nothing among the words 
I know.” And then she paused a little, still looking at 
her, and cried, “ Oh, if she could but see you, little Mar- 
garet! That would do her most good of all.” 

Then the maiden Margaret shook her lovely head. 
“ What does her most good is the will of the Father,” she 
said. 

At this the little Pilgrim felt once more that thrill of 
expectation and awe. “ Oh, child, you have seen him?” 
she cried. 

And the other smiled. “Have you forgotten who they 
are that always behold his face? We have never had any 
fear or trembling. We are not angels, and there is no 
other name; we are the children. There is something 
given to us beyond the others. We have had no other 
home.” 

“ Oh, tell me, tell me!” the little Pilgrim cried. 


20 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


Upon this Margaret kissed her, putting her soft cheek 
against hers, and said, “ It is a mystery; it cannot be put 
into words, in your time you will know.” 

“ When you touch me you change me, and I grow like 
you,” the Pilgrim said. “ Ah, if she could see us together, 
you and me! And will you go to her soon again? And 
do you see them always, what they are doing? and take 
care of them?” 

“ It is our Father who takes care of them, and our Lord 
who is our Brother. I do his errands when I am able. 
Sometimes he will let me go, sometimes another, according 
as it is best. Who am I that I should take care of them? 
I serve them when I may.” 

“ But you do not forget them?” the Pilgrim said, with 
wistful eyes. 

“ We love them always,” said Margaret. She was more 
still than the lady who had first spoken with the Pilgrim. 
Her countenance was full of a heavenly calm. It had 
never known passion nor anguish. Sometimes there was 
in it a far-seeing look of vision, sometimes the simplicity 
of a child. “ But what are we in comparison? For he 
loves them more than we do. When he keeps us from 
them, it is for love. We must each live our own life.” 

“ But it is hard for them sometimes,” said the little 
Pilgrim, who could not withdraw her thought from those 
she had left. 

“ They are never forsaken,” said the angel maiden. 

“ But oh ! there are worse things than sorrow,” the little 
Pilgrim said; “ there is wrong, there is evil, Margaret. 
Will he not send you to step in before them, to save them 
from wrong?” 

“It is not for us to judge;” said the young Margaret, 
with eyes full of heavenly wisdom; “'our Brother has it 
all in his hand. We do not read their hearts like him. 
Sometimes you are permitted to see the battle ” 

The little Pilgrim covered her eyes with her hands. “I 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 21 

could not — I could not; unless I knew they were to win 
the day!” 

“ They will win the day in the end. But sometimes, 
when it was being lost, I have seen in his face a something 
— I cannot tell — more love than before. Something that 
seemed to say, ‘ My child, my child, would that I could do 
it for thee, my child!’” 

“Oh! that is what I have always felt,” cried the Pil- 
grim, clasping her hauds; her eyes were dim, her heart 
for a moment almost forgot its blessedness. “But he 
could; oh, little Margaret, he could ! You have forgotten, 
‘Lord, if thou wilt thou canst ’ ” 

The child of heaven looked at her mutely, with sweet, 
grave eyes, in which there was much that confused her 
who was a stranger here, and once more softly shook her 
head. 

“ Is it that he will not then?” said the other with a low 
voice of awe. “Our Lord, who died — he ” 

“ Listen!” said the other; “ I hear his step on the way.” 

The little Pilgrim rose up from the mound on which she 
was sitting. Her soul was confused with wonder and fear. 
She had thought that an angel might step between a soul 
on earth and sin, and that if one but prayed and prayed, 
the dear Lord would stand between and deliver the tempted. 
She had meant when she saw his face to ask him to save. 
Was not he born, did not he live and die, to save? The 
angel maiden looked at her all the while with eyes that 
understood all her perplexity and her doubt, but spoke not. 
Thus it was that before the Lord came to her, the sweet- 
ness of her first blessedness was obscured, and she found 
that here too, even here, though in a moment she could 
see him, there was need for faith. Young Margaret, who 
had been kneeling by her, rose up too and stood among the 
lilies, waiting, her soft countenance shining, her eyes turned 
toward him who was coming. Upon her there was no cloud 
nor doubt. She was one of the children of that land 


22 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


familiar with his presence. And in the air there was a 
sound such as those who hear it alone can describe, — a 
sound as of help coming and safety, like the sound of a 
deliverer when one is in deadly danger, like the sound of a 
conqueror, like the step of the dearest beloved coming 
home. As it came nearer, the fear melted away out of the 
beating heart of the Pilgrim. Who could fear so near 
him? Her breath went away from her, her heart out of 
her bosom to meet his coming. Oh, never fear could live 
where he was. Her soul was all confused, but it was with 
hope and joy. She held out her hands in that amaze, and 
dropped upon her knees, not knowing what she did. 

He was going about his Father’s business, not lingering, 
yet neither making haste; and the calm and peace which 
the little Pilgrim had seen in the faces of the blessed were 
but reflections from the majestic gentleness of the counte- 
nance to which, all quivering with happiness and wonder, 
she lifted up her eyes. Many things there had been in 
her mind to say to him. She wanted to ask for those she 
loved some things which perhaps he had overlooked. She 
wanted to say, “ Send me.” It seemed to her that here 
was the occasion she bad longed for all her life. Oh, how 
many times had she wished to be able to go to him, to fall 
at his feet, to show him something which had been left 
undone, something which perhaps for her asking he would 
remember to do. But when this dream of her life was 
fulfilled, and the little Pilgrim, kneeling, and all shaken 
and trembling with devotion and joy, was at his feet, lift- 
ing her face to him, seeing him, hearing him — then she 
said nothing to him at all. She no longer wanted to say 
anything, or wanted anything except what he chose, or had 
power to think of anything except that all was well, and 
everything — everything as it should be in his hand. It 
seemed to her that all that she had ever hoped for was ful- 
filled when she met the look in his eyes. At first it seemed 
too bright for her to meet; but next moment she knew it was 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


23 


all that was needed to light up the world, and in it every- 
thing was clear. Her trembling ceased, her little frame grew 
inspired; though she still knelt, her head rose erect, drawn 
to him like the flower to the sun. She could not tell how 
long it was nor what was said, nor if it was in words. All 
that she knew was that she told him all that ever she had 
thought, or wished, or intended in all her life, although 
she said nothing at all; and that he opened all things to 
her, and showed her that everything was well, and no one 
forgotten; and that the things she would have told him of 
were more near his heart than hers, and those to whom 
she wanted to be sent were in his own hand. But whether 
this passed with words or without words she could not 
tell. Her soul expanded under his eyes like a flower. It 
opened out, it comprehended and felt and knew. She 
smote her hands together in her wonder that she could 
have missed seeing what was so clear, and laughed with a 
sweet scorn at her folly, as two people who love each other 
laugh at the little misunderstanding that has parted them. 
She was bold with him, though she was so timid by 
nature, and ventured to laugh at herself, not to reproach 
herself; for his divine eyes spoke no blame, but smiled 
upon her folly too. And then he laid a hand upon her 
head, which seemed to fill her with currents of strength 
and joy running through all her veins. And then she 
seemed to come to herself, saying loud out, “ And that I 
will! and that I will!” and lo, she was kneeling on the 
warm, soft sod alone, and hearing the sound of his foot- 
steps as he went about his Father’s business, filling all the 
air with echoes of blessing. And all the people who were 
coming and going smiled upon her, and she knew they 
were all glad for her that she had seen him, and got the 
desire of her heart. Some of them waved their hands as 
they passed, and some paused a moment and spoke to her 
with tender congratulations. They seemed to have the 
tears in their eyes for joy, remembering every one the first 


24 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


time they had themselves seen him, and the joy of it; so 
that all about there sounded a concord of happy thoughts 
all echoing to each other, “ She has seen the Lord ! ” 

Why did she say, “ And that I will! and that I will!” 
with such fervor and delight? She could not have told, 
but yet she knew. The first thing was that she had yet 
to wait and believe until all things should be accomplished, 
neither doubting nor fearing, but knowing that all should 
be well; and the second was that she must delay no longer, 
but rise up and serve the Father according to what was 
given her as her reward. When she had recovered a little 
of her rapture, she rose from her knees, and stood still for 
a little, to be sure which way she was to go. And she was 
not aware what guided her, but yet turned her face in the 
appointed way without any doubt. For doubt was now 
gone away forever, and that fear that once gave her so 
much trouble lest she might not be doing what was best. 
As she moved along she wondered at herself more and 
more. 

She felt no longer, as at first, like the child she 
remembered to have been, venturing out in the awful 
lonely stillness of the morning before any one was awake; 
but she felt that to move along was a delight, and that her 
foot scarcely touched the grass. And her whole being 
was instinct with such lightness of strength and life, that 
it did not matter to her how far she went, nor what she 
carried, nor if the way was easy or hard. The way she 
chose was one of those which led to the great gate, and 
many met her coming from thence, with looks that were 
somewhat bewildered, as if they did not yet know whither 
they were going or what had hajipened to them, — upon 
whom she smiled as she passed them with soft looks of 
tenderness and sympathy, knowing what they were feeling, 
but did not stop to explain to them, because she had some- 
thing else that had been given her to do. For this is 
what always follows in that country when you meet the. 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 25 

Lord, that you instantly know what it is that he would 
have you do. 

The little Pilgrim thus went on and on toward the gate, 
which she had not seen when she herself came through 
it, having been lifted in his arms by the great Death 
Angel, and set down softly inside, so that she did not 
know it, or even the shadow of it. As she drew nearer^ 
the light became less bright, though very sweet, like a 
lovely dawn, and she wondered to herself to think that 
she had been here but a moment ago, and yet so much had 
passed since then. And still she was not aware what was 
her errand, but wondered if she was to go back by these 
same gates, and perhaps return where she had been. She 
went up to them very closely, for she was curious to see 
the place through which she had come in her sleep, — as a 
traveler goes back to see the city gate, with its bridge and 
portcullis, through which he has passed by night. The 
gate was very great, of a wonderful, curious architecture, 
having strange, delicate arches and canopies above. Some 
parts of them seemed cut very clean and clear; but the 
outlines were all softened with a sort of mist and shadow, 
so that it looked greater and higher than it was. The 
lower part was not one great doorway, as the Pilgrim had 
supposed, but had innumerable doors, all separate and 
very narrow, so that but one could pass at a time, though 
the arch inclosed all, and seemed filled with great folding 
gates, in which the smaller doors were set, so that if need 
arose a vast opening might be made for many to enter. 
Of the little doors many were shut as the Pilgrim ap- 
proached; but from moment to moment one after another 
would be pushed softly open from without, and some one 
would come in. The little Pilgrim looked at it all with 
great interest, wondering which of the doors she herself 
had come by; but while she stood absorbed by this, 
a door was suddenly pushed open close by her, and 
some one flung forward into the blessed country, falling 


26 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


upon the ground, and stretching out wild arms as though 
to clutch the very soil. This sight gave the Pilgrim a 
great surprise; for it was the first time she had heard any 
sound of pain, or seen any sight of trouble, since she en- 
tered here. In that moment she knew what it was that 
the dear Lord had given her to do. She had no need to 
pause to think, for her heart told her; and she did not 
hesitate, as she might have done in the other life, not 
knowing what to say. She went forward and gathered 
this poor creature into her arms, as if it had been a child, 
and drew her quite within the land of peace; for she had 
fallen across the threshold, so as to hinder any one enter- 
ing who might be coming after her. It was a woman, and 
she had flung herself upon her face, so that it was difficult 
for the little Pilgrim to see what manner of person it was; 
for though she felt herself strong enough to take up this 
new comer in her arms and carry her away, yet she for- 
bore, seeing the will of the stranger was not so. For some 
time this woman lay moaning, with now and then a great 
sob shaking her as she lay. The little Pilgrim had taken 
her by both her arms, and drawn her head to rest upon 
her own lap, and was still holding the hands, which the 
poor creature had thrown out as if to clutch the ground. 
Thus she lay for a little while, as the little Pilgrim re- 
membered she herself had lain, not wishing to move, won- 
dering what had happened to her; then she clutched the 
hands which grasped her, and said, muttering, — 

“ You are some one new. Have you come to save me? 
Oh, save me! Oh, save me! Don’t let me die!” 

This was very strange to the little Pilgrim, and went to 
her heart. She soothed the stranger, holding her hands 
warm and light, and stooping over her. 

“Dear,” she said, “you must try and not be afraid.” 

“You say so,” said the woman, “because you are well 
and strong. You don’t know what it is to be seized in 
the middle of your life, and told that you’ve got to die. 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


27 


Oh, I have been a sinful creature! I am not fit to die. 
Can’t you give me something that will cure me? What is 
the good of doctors and nurses if they cannot save a poor 
soul that is not fit to die?” 

At this the little Pilgrim smiled upon her, always hold- 
ing her fast, and said, — 

“ Why are you so afraid to die?” 

The woman raised her head to see who it was who put 
such a strange question to her. 

“ You are some one new,” she said. “ I have never seen 
you before. Is there any one that is not afraid to die? 
Would you like to have to give your account all in a mo- 
ment, without any time to prepare?” 

“ But you have had time to prepare,” said the Pilgrim. 

“Oh, only a very, very little time. And I never 
thought it was true. I am not an old woman, and I am 
not fit to die; and I’m poor. Oh, if I were rich, I would 
bribe you to give me something to keep me alive. Won’t 
you do it for pity? — won’t you do it for pity? When you 
are as bad as I am, oh, you will perhaps call for some one 
to help you, and find nobody, like me.” 

“I will help you for love,” said the little Pilgrim; 
“ some one who loves you has sent me.” 

The woman lifted herself up a little and shook her head. 
“There is nobody that loves me.” Then she cast her 
eyes round her and began to tremble again (for the touch 
of the little Pilgrim had stilled her). “ Oh, where am I?” 
she said. “They have taken me away; they have brought 
me to a strange place; and you are new. Oh, where have 
they taken me? — where am I? — where am I?” she cried. 
“Have they brought me here to die?” 

Then the little Pilgrim bent over her and soothed her. 
“You must not be so much afraid of dying; that is all 
over. You need not fear that any more,” she said, softly; 
“for here where you now are we have all died.” 

The woman started up out of her arms, and then she 


28 


A LITTLE PILGRIM, 


gave a great shriek that made the air ring, and cried out, 
“Dead! am I dead?” with a shudder and convulsion, 
throwing herself again wildly with outstretched hands 
upon the ground. 

This was a great and terrible work for the little Pilgrim 
— the first she had ever had to do — and her heart failed 
her for a moment; but afterward she remembered our 
Brother who sent her, and knew what was best. She drew 
closer to the new-comer, and took her hand again. 

“Try,” she said, in a soft voice, “and think a little. 
Do you feel now so ill as you were? Do not be frightened, 
but think a little. I will hold your hand. And look at 
me; you are not afraid of me?” 

The poor creature shuddered again, and then she turned 
her face and looked doubtfully, with great dark eyes di- 
lated, and the brow and cheek so curved and puckered 
round them that they seemed to glow out of deep caverns. 
Her face was full of anguish and fear. But as she looked 
at the little Pilgrim, her troubled gaze softened. Of her 
own accord she clasped her other hand upon the one that 
held hers, and then she said with a gasp, — 

“I am not afraid of you; that was not true that you 
said! You are one of the sisters, and you want to frighten 
me and make me repent!” 

“You do repent,” the Pilgrim said. 

“Oh,” cried the poor woman, “what has the like of 
you to do with me? Now I look at you, I never saw any 
one that was like you before. Don’t you hate me? — don’t 
you loathe me? I do myself. It’s so ugly to go wrong. I 
think now I would almost rather die and be done with it. 
You will say that is because I am going to get better. I 
feel a great deal better now. Do you think I am going to 
get over it? Oh, I am better! I could get up out of bed 
and walk about. Yes, but I am not in bed, — where have 
• you brought me? Never mind, it is a fine air; I shall soon 
get well here.” 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 29 

The Pilgrim was silent for a little, holding her hands. 
And then she said, — 

“Tell me how you feel now,” in her soft voice. 

The woman had sat up and was gazing round her. “ It 
is very strange,” she said; “ it is all confused. I think 
upon my mother and the old prayers I used to say. For a 
long, long time I always said my prayers: but now Fve got 
hardened, they say. Oh, I was once as fresh as any one. 
It all comes over me now. I feel as if I were young again 
— iust come out of the country. I am sure that I could 
walk.” 

The little Pilgrim raised her up, holding her by her 
hands; and she stood and gazed round about her, making 
one or two doubtful steps. She was very pale, and the 
light was dim; her eyes peered into it with a scared yet 
eager look. She made another step, then stopped again. 

“ I am quite well,” she said. “ I could walk a mile. I 
could walk any distance. What was that you said? Oh, I 
tell you I am better! I am not going to die.” 

“You will never, never die,” said the little Pilgrim; 
“ are you not glad it is all over? Oh, I was so glad! And 
all the more you should be glad if you were so much 
afraid.” 

But this woman was not glad. She shrank away from 
her companion, then came close to her again, and gripped 
her with her hands. 

“It is your — fun,” she said, “or just to frighten me. 
Perhaps you think it will do me no harm as I am getting 
so well; you want to frighten me to make me good. But 
I mean to be good without that — I do! — I do! When one 
is so near dying as I have been and yet gets better, — for I 
am going to get better! Yes! you know it as well as I.” 

The little Pilgrim made no reply, but stood by, looking 
at her charge, not feeling that anything was given her to 
say, — and she was so new to this work, that there was a 
little trembling in her, lest she should not do everything 


30 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


as she ought. And the woman looked round with those 
anxious eyes gazing all about. The light did not brighten 
as it had done when the Pilgrim herself first came to this 
place. For one thing, they had remained quite close to 
the gate, which no doubt threw a shadow. The woman 
looked at that, and then turned and looked into the dim 
morning, and did not know where she was, and her heart 
was confused and troubled. 

“ Where are we?” she said. “ I do not know where it 
is; they must have brought me here in my sleep, — where 
are we? How strange to bring a sick woman away out of 
her room in her sleep! I suppose it was the new doctor,” 
she went on, looking very closely in the little Pilgrim’s 
face; then paused, and drawing a long breath, said softly, 
“ It has done me good. It is better air — it is — a new kind 
of cure!” 

But though she spoke like this, she did not convince 
herself; her eyes were wide with wondering and fear. She 
gripped the Pilgrim’s arm more and more closely, and 
trembled, leaning upon her. 

“ Why don’t you speak to me?” she said; “ why don’t 
you tell me? Oh, I don’t know how to live in this place! 
What do you do? — how do you speak? I am not fit for it. 
And what are you? I never saw you before, nor any one 
like you. What do you want with me? Why are you so 
kind to me? Why — why ” 

And here she went off into a murmur of questions. 
Why? why? always holding fast by the little Pilgrim, al- 
ways gazing round her, groping as it were in the dimness 
with her great eyes. 

“ I have come because our dear Lord who is our Brother 
sent me to meet you, and because I love you,” the little 
Pilgrim said. 

“Love me!” the woman cried, throwing up her hands. 
“But no one loves me; [ have not deserved it.” Here she 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 31 

grasped her close again with a sudden clutch, and cried 
out, “If this is what you say, where is God?” 

“Are you afraid of him?” the little Pilgrim said. 

Upon which the woman trembled so, that the Pilgrim 
trembled too with the quivering of her frame; then loosed 
her hold, and fell upon her face, and cried, — 

“Hide me! hide me! I have been a great sinner. Hide 
me, that he may not see me;” and with one hand she tried 
to draw the Pilgrim’s dress as a veil between her and some- 
thing she feared. 

“ How should I hide you from him who is everywhere? 
and why should I hide you from your Father?” the little 
Pilgrim said. This she said almost with indignation, won- 
dering that any one could put more trust in her, who was no 
better than a child, than in the Father of all. But then 
she said, “ Look into your heart, and you will see you are 
not so much afraid as you think. This is how you have 
been accustomed to frighten yourself. But now look into 
your heart. You thought you were very ill at first, but 
not now: and you think you are afraid; but look into your 
heart ” 

There was a silence; and then the woman raised her head 
with a wonderful look, in which there was amazement and 
doubt, as if she had heard some joyful thing, but dared 
not yet believe that it was true. Once more she hid her 
face in her hands, and once more raised it again. Her 
eyes softened; along sigh or gasp, like one taking breath 
after drowning, shook her breast. Then she said, “I think 
— that is true. But if I am not afraid, it is because I am 
— bad. It is because I am hardened. Oh, should not I 
fear him who can send me away into — the lake that burns 

— into the pit ” And here she gave a great cry, but 

held the little Pilgrim all the while with her eyes, which 
seemed to plead and ask for better news. 

Then there came into the Pilgrim’s heart what to say, 
and she took the woman’s hand again and held it be- 


32 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


tween her own. “That is the change,” she said, “that 
comes when we come here. We are not afraid any more 
of our Father. We are not all happy. Perhaps you will 
not be happy at first. But if he says to you, ‘Go!’ — 
even to that place you speak of — you will know that it 
is well, and you will not be afraid. You are not afraid 
now, — oh, I can see it in your eyes. You are not happy, 
but you are not afraid. You know it is the Father. 
Do not say God, — that is far off, — Father!” said the lit- 
tle Pilgrim, holding up the woman’s hand clasped in her 
own. And there came into her soul an ecstasy, and tears 
that were tears of blessedness fell from her eyes, and all 
a|?out her there seemed to shine a light. When she came 
to herself, the woman who was her charge had come quite 
close to her, and had added her other hand to that the 
Pilgrim held; and was weeping and saying, “ I am not 
afraid,” with now and then a gasp and a sob, like a child 
who after a passion of tears has been consoled, yet goes on 
sobbing and cannot quite forget, and is afraid to own that 
all is well again. Then the Pilgrim kissed her, and bade 
her rest a little; for even she herself felt shaken, and longed 
for a little quiet, and to feel the true sense of the peace 
that was in her heart. She sat down beside her upon 
the ground, and made lier lean her head against her 
shoulder, and thus they remained very still for a little 
time, saying no more. It seemed to the little Pilgrim 
that her companion had fallen asleep, and perhaps it was 
so, after so much agitation. All this time there had been 
people passing, entering by the many doors. And most 
of them paused a little to see where they were, and looked 
round them, then went on; and it seemed to the little 
Pilgrim that according to the doors by which they en- 
tered each took a different way. While she watched, an- 
other came in by the same door as that at which the 
woman who was her charge had come in. And he too 
stumbled and looked about him with an air of great 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


33 


wonder and doubt. When he saw her seated on the 
ground, he came up to her hesitating, as one in a strange 
place who does not want to betray that he is bewil- 
dered and has lost his way. He came with a little pre- 
tense of smiling, though his countenance was pale and 
scared, and said, drawing his breath quick, “I ought to 
know where I am, but I have lost my head, I think. 
Will you tell me which is — the way?” 

“ What way?” cried the little Pilgrim; for her strength 
was gone from her, and she had no word to say to him. 
He looked at her with that bewilderment on his face, and 
said, “I find myself strange, strange. I ought to know 
where I am; but it is scarcely daylight yet. It is perhaps 
foolish to come out so early in the morning.” This he said 
in his confusion, not knowing where he was, nor what he 
said. 

“ I think all the ways lead to our Father,” said the lit- 
tle Pilgrim (though she had not known this till now). 
“And the dear Lord walks about them all. Here you 
never go astray.” 

Upon this the stranger looked at her, and asked in a 
faltering voice, “Are you an angel?” still not knowing 
what he said. 

“ Oh, no, no; I am only a Pilgrim,” she replied. 

“May I sit by you a little?” said the man. He sat 
down, drawing long breaths, as though he had gone 
through great fatigue; and looked about with wondering 
eyes. “You will wonder, but I do not know where I am,” 
he said. “I feel as if I must be dreaming. This is not 
where I expected to come. I looked for something very 
different; do you think there can have been any — mis- 
take?” 

“Oh, never that,” she said; “there are no mistakes 
here.” 

Then he looked at her again and said, — 

“I perceive that you belong to this country, though you 

2 




34 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


say you are a pilgrim. I should be grateful if you would 
tell me. Does one live — here? And is this all? Is there 
no — no — but I don’t know what word to use. All is so 
strange, different from what I expected.” 

“Do you know that you have died?” 

“Yes — yes, I am quite acquainted with that,” he said, 
hurriedly, as if it had been an idea he disliked to dwell 

upon. “But then I expected Is there no one to tell 

you where to go, or what you are to be? or to take any 
notice of you?” 

The little Pilgrim was startled by this tone. She did 
not understand its meaning, and she had not any word to 
say to him. She looked at him with as much bewilder- 
ment as he had shown when he approached her, and re- 
plied, faltering, — 

“There are a great many people here; but I have never 
heard if there is any one to tell you ” 

“ What does it matter how many people there are if you 
know none of them?” he said. 

“We all know each other,” she answered him: but then 
paused and hesitated a little, because this was what had 
been said to her, and of herself she was not assured of it, 
neither did she know at all how to deal with this stranger, 
to whom she had not any commission. It seemed that he 
had no one to care for him, and the little Pilgrim had a 
sense of compassion, yet of trouble in her heart; for what 
could she say? And it was very strange to her to see one 
who was not content here. 

“Ah, but there should be some one to point out the 
way, and tell us which is our circle, and where we ought 
to go,” he said. And then he, too, was silent for awhile, 
looking about him as all were fain to do on their first 
arrival, finding everything so strange. There were people 
coming in at every moment, and some were met at the very 
threshold, and some went away alone with peaceful faces, 
and there were many groups about, talking together in 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


35 


soft voices; but no one interrupted the other, and, though 
so many were there, each voice was as clear as if it had 
spoken alone, and there was no tumult of sound, as when 
many people are assembled together in the lower world. 

The little Pilgrim wondered to find herself with the 
woman resting upon her on one side, and the man seated 
silent on the other, neither having, it appeared, any guide 
but only herself, who knew so little. How was she to 
lead them in the paths which she did not know? — and she 
was exhausted by the agitation of her struggle with the 
woman whom she felt to be her charge. But in this mo- 
ment of silence she had time to remember the face of the 
Lord when he gave her this commission, and her heart 
was strengthened. The man all this time sat and watched, 
looking eagerly all about him, examining the faces of 
those who went and came: and sometimes he made a little 
start as if to go and speak to some one he knew; but 
always drew back again and looked at the little Pilgrim, 
as if he had said, “ This is the one who will serve me 
best.” He spoke to her again after awhile, and said, “1 
suppose you are one of the guides that show the way.” 

“ Ho,” said the little Pilgrim, anxiously. “ I know so 
little! It is not long since I came here. I came in the 
early morning ” 

“ Why, it is morning now. You could not come earlier 
than it is now. You mean yesterday.” 

“ I think,” said the Pilgrim, k ‘ that yesterday is the 
other side; there is no yesterday here.” 

He looked at her with the keen look he had,* to under- 
stand her the better; and then he said, — 

“ Ho division of time! I think that must be monotonous. 
It will be strange to have no night; but I suppose one gets 
used to everything. I hope though there is something to 
do. I have always lived a very busy life. Perhaps this is 
just a little pause before we go — to be— to have — to get 
our — appointed places,”- 


36 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


He had an uneasy look as he said this, and looked at her 
with an anxious curiosity, which the little Pilgrim did 
not understand. 

“I do not know,” she said softly, shaking her head. 
“ 1 have so little experience. I have not been told of an 
appointed place.” 

The man looked at her very strangely. 

“I did not think,” he said, “that I should have found 
such ignorance here. Is it not well known that we must 
all appear before the judgment-seat of God?” 

These words seemed to cause a trembling on the still air, 
and the woman on the other side raised herself suddenly 
up, clasping her hands: and some of those who had just 
entered heard the words, and came and crowded about the 
little Pilgrim, some standing, some falling down upon 
their knees, all with their faces turned toward her. She 
who had always been so simple and small, so little used to 
teach; she was frightened with the sight of all these stran- 
gers crowding, hanging upon her lips, looking to her for 
knowledge. She knew not what to do or what to say. The 
tears came into her eyes. 

“ Oh,” she said, “ I do not know anything about a judg- 
ment-seat. I know that our Father is here, and that 
when we are in trouble we are taken to him to be com- 
forted, and that our dear Lord our Brother is among us 
every day, and every one may see him. Listen,” she said, 
standing up suddenly among them, feeling strong as an 
angel. “I have seen him! though I am nothing, so little 
as you see, and often silly, never clever as some of you are, 

I have seen him! and so will all of you. There is no more 
that I know of,” she said, softly, clasping her hands. 
“ When you see him it comes into your heart what you 
must do.” 

And then there was a murmur of voices about her, some 
saying that was best, and some wondering if that were all, 
and some crying if he would b*ut come now — while the 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


37 


little Pilgrim stood among them with her face shining, 
and they all looked at her, asking her to tell them more, 
to show them how to find him. But this was far above what 
she could do, for she too was not much more than a stranger, 
and had little strength. She would not go back a step, 
nor desert those who were so anxious to know, though her 
heart fluttered almost as it had used to do before she died, 
what with her longing to tell them, and knowing that she 
had no more to say. 

But in that land it is never permitted that one who 
stands bravely and fails not shall be left without succor; for 
it is no longer needful there to stand even to death, since 
all dying is over, and all souls are tested. When it was 
seen that the little Pilgrim was thus surrounded by so 
many that questioned her, there suddenly came about her 
many others from the brightness out of which she had 
come, who, one going to one hand, and one to another, 
safely led them into the ways in which their course lay: so 
that the Pilgrim was free to lead forth the woman who had 
been given her in charge, and whose path lay in a dim, 
but pleasant country, outside of that light and gladness in 
which the Pilgrim’s home was. 

“But,” she said, “you are not to fear or be cast down, 
because he goes likewise by these ways, and there is not a 
corner in all this land but he is to be seen passing by; and 
he will come and speak to you, and lay his hand upon you; 
and afterward everything will be clear, and you will know 
what you are to do.” 

“Stay with me till he comes, — oh, stay with me,” the 
woman cried, clinging to her arm. 

“Unless another is sent,” the little Pilgrim said. And 
it was nothing to her that the air was less bright there, 
for her mind was full of light, so that, though her heart 
still fluttered a little with all that had passed, she had no 
longing to return, nor to shorten the way, but went by the 
lower road sweetly, with the stranger hanging upon her, 


38 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


who was stronger and taller than she. Tims they went on, 
and the Pilgrim told her all she knew, and everything that 
came into her heart. And so full was she of the great 
things she had to say, that it was a surprise to her, and 
left her trembling, when suddenly the woman took away 
her clinging hand, and flew forward with arms outspread 
and a cry of joy. The little Pilgrim stood still to see, and 
on the path before them was a child, coming toward them 
singing, with a look such as is never seen but upon the 
faces of children who have come here early, and who be- 
hold the face of the Father, and have never known fear 
nor sorrow. The woman flew and fell at the child’s feet, 
and he put his hand upon her, and raised her up, and 
called her “mother.” Then he smiled upon the little 
Pilgrim, and led her away. 

“Now she needs me no longer, said the Pilgrim; and 
it was a surprise to her, and for a moment she wondered 
in herself if it was known that this child should come so 
suddenly and her work be over; and also how she was to 
return again to the sweet place among the flowers from 
which she had come. But when she turned to look if 
there was any way, she found one standing by such as she 
had not yet seen. This was a youth, with a face just 
touched with manhood, as at the moment when the boy 
ends, when all is still fresh and pure in the heart; but he 
was taller and greater than a man. 

“I am sent,” he said, “little sister, to take you to the 
Father; because you have been very faithful, and gone be- 
yond your strength.” 

And he took the little Pilgrim by the hand, and she 
knew he was an angel; and immediately the sweet air 
melted about them into light, and a hush came upon her 
of all thought and all sense, attending till she should re- 
ceive the blessing, and her new name, and see what is be- 
yond telling, and hear and understand. 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


39 


II. 

THE LITTLE PILGRIM GOES UP HIGHER. 

When the little Pilgrim came out of the presence of the 
Father, she found herself in the street of a great city. But 
what she saw and heard when she was with Him it is not 
given to the tongue of mortal to say, for it is beyond words, 
and even beyond thought. As the mystery of love is not 
to be spoken but to be felt, even in the lower earth, so, 
but much less, is that great mystery of the love of the Fa- 
ther to be expressed in sound. The little Pilgrim was 
very happy when she went into that sacred place, but there 
was a great awe upon her, and it might even be said that 
she was afraid; but when she came out again she feared 
nothing, but looked with clear eyes upon all she saw, lov- 
ing them, but no more overawed by them, having seen 
that which is above all. When she came forth again to 
her common life — for it is not permitted save for those who 
have attained the greatest heights to dwell there — she had 
no longer need of any guide, but came alone, knowing 
where to go, and walking where it pleased her, with rever- 
ence and a great delight in seeing and knowing all that 
was around, but no fear. It was a great city, but it 
was not like the great cities which she had seen. She un- 
derstood as she passed along how it was that those who 
had been dazzled but by a passing glance had described 
the walls and the pavement as gold. They were like what 
gold is, beautiful and clear, of a lovely color, but softer in 
tone than metal ever was, and as cool and fresh to walk 
upon and to touch as if they had been velvet grass. The 
buildings were all beautiful, of every style and form that 
it is possible to think of, yet in great harmony, as if every 


40 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


man had followed his own taste, yet all had been so com- 
bined and grouped by the master architect that each in- 
dividual feature enchanced the effect of the rest. Some of 
the houses were greater and some smaller, but all of them 
were rich in carvings and pictures and lovely decorations, 
and the effect was as if the richest materials had been em- 
ployed, marbles and beautiful sculptured stone, and wood 
of beautiful tints, though the little Pilgrim knew that 
these were not like the marble and stone she had once 
known, but heavenly representatives of them, far better 
than they. There were people at work upon them, build- 
ing new houses and making additions, and a great many 
painters painting upon them the history of the people who 
lived there, or of others who were worthy that commem- 
oration. And the streets were full of pleasant sound, and 
of crowds going and coming, and the commotion of much 
business, and many things to do. And this movement, 
and the brightness of the air, and the wonderful things 
that were to be seen on every side, made the Pilgrim gay, 
so that she could have sung with pleasure as she went 
along. And all who met her smiled, and every group ex- 
changed greetings as they passed along, all knowing each 
other. Many of them, as might be seen, had come there, 
as she did, to see the wonders of the beautiful city; and all 
who lived there were ready to tell them whatever they de- 
sired to know, and show them the finest houses and the 
greatest pictures. And this gave a feeling of holiday and 
pleasure which was delightful beyond description, for all 
the busy people about were full of sympathy with the 
strangers, bidding them welcome, inviting them into their 
houses, making the warmest fellowship. And friends 
were meeting continually on every side; but the Pilgrim 
had no sense that she was forlorn in being alone, for all 
were her friends; and it pleased her to watch the others, 
and see how one turned this way and one another, every 
one finding something that delighted him above all other 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


41 


things. She herself took a great pleasure in watching a 
painter, who was standing upon a balcony a little way 
above her, painting upon a great fresco; and when he saw 
this he asked her to come up beside him and see his work. 
She asked him a great many questions about it, and why it 
was that he was working only at the draperies of the fig- 
ures, and did not touch their faces, some of which were 
already finished and seemed to be looking at her, as living 
as she was, out of the Avail, while some were merely out- 
lined as yet. He told her that he was not a great painter 
to do this, or to design the great work, but that the master 
would come presently, who had the chief responsibility. 
“ For we have not all the same genius,” he said, “ and if 
I were to paint this head it would not have the gift of life 
as that one has; but to stand by and see him put it in, 
you cannot think what a happiness that is; for one knows 
every touch, and just what effect it will have, though one 
could not do it one’s self; and it is a wonder and a delight 
perpetual that it should be done.” 

The little Pilgrim looked up at him and said, “That is 
very beautiful to say. And do you never wish to be like 
him — to make the lovely, living faces as well as the other 
parts?” 

“Is not this lovely too?” he said; and showed her how 
he had just put in a billowy robe, buoyed out with the 
wind, and sweeping down from the shoulders of a stately 
figure in such free and graceful folds that she would have 
liked to take it in her hand and feel the silken texture; 
and then he told her how absorbing it was to study the 
mysteries of color and the differences of light. “ There is 
enough in that to make one happy,” he said. “It is 
thought by some that we will all come to the higher point 
with work and thought; but that is not my feeling; and 
whether it is so or not, what does it matter, for our Father 
makes no difference; and all of us are necessary to every- 
thing that is done; and it is almost more delight to see the 


42 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


master do it than to do it with one’s own hand. For one 
thing, your own work may rejoice you in your heart, but al- 
ways with a little trembling because it is never so perfect 
as you would have it — whereas in your master’s work you 
have full content, because his idea goes beyond yours, and 
as he makes every touch you can feel, ‘ That is right — that 
is complete — that is just as it ought to be.’ Do you un- 
derstand what I mean?” he said, turning to her with a 
smile. 

“I understand it perfectly,” she cried, clasping her 
hands together with the delight of accord. “ Don’t you 
think that is one of the things that are so happy here — you 
understand at half a word?” 

“Not everybody,” he said, and smiled upon her like a 
brother; “for we are not all alike even here.” 

“ Were you a painter,” she said, “ in — in the other ” 

“ In the old times. I was one of those that strove for 

the mastery, and sometimes grudged We remember 

these things at times,” he said gravely, “ to make us more 
aware of the blessedness of being content.” 

“ It is long since then?” she said with some wistfulness, 
upon which he smiled again. 

“So long,” he said, “that we have worn out most of 
our links to the world below. We have all come away, 
and those who were after us for generations. But you are 
a new-comer.” 

“And are they all with you? are you all — together? do 
you live — as in the old time?” 

Upon this the painter smiled, but not so brightly as 
before. 

“Not as in the old time,” he said, “nor are they all 
here. Some are still upon the way, and of some we have 
no certainty, only news from time to time. The angels 
are very good to us. They never miss an occasion to bring 
us news; for they go everywhere, you know,” 

“ Yes,” said the little Pilgrim, though indeed she had 


A LITTLE PiLGKIM. 


43 


not known it till now; but it seemed to her as if it had 
come to her mind by nature and she had never needed to 
be told. 

“ They are so tender-hearted/’ the painter said; “and 
more than that, they are very curious about men and 
women. They have known it all from the beginning, and 
it is a wonder to them. There is a friend of mine, an angel, 
who is more wise in men’s hearts than any one I know; and 
yet he will say to me sometimes, * I do not understand 
you, — you are wonderful.’ They like to find out all we are 
thinking. It is an endless pleasure to them, just as it is 
to some of us to watch the people in the other world.” 

“Do you mean — where we have come from?” said the 
little Pilgrim. 

“Not always there. We in this city have been long 
separated from that country, for all that we love are out 
of it.” 

“ But not here?” the little Pilgrim cried again, with a 
little sorrow — a pang that she knew was going to be put 
away — in her heart. 

“ But coming! coming!” said the painter cheerfully; 
“ and some were here before us, and some have arrived 
since. They are everywhere.” 

“ But some in trouble — some in trouble!” she cried, with 
tears in her eyes. 

“We suppose so,” he said, gravely; “for some are in 
that place which once was called among us the place of 
despair.” 

“You mean ” and though the little Pilgrim had been 

made free of fear, at that word which she would not speak, 
she trembled, and the light grew dim in her eyes. 

“Well,” said her new friend, “and whatthen? The 
Father sees through and through it, as he does here; they 
cannot escape him, so that there is Love near them always. 
I have a son,” he said, then sighed a little, but smiled 
again, “who is there.” 


44 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


The little Pilgrim at this clasped her hands with a pit- 
eous cry. 

“Nay, nay,” he said, “little sister; my friend I was 
telling you of, the angel, brought me news of him just 
now. Indeed there was news of him through all the city. 
Did you not hear all the bells ringing? But perhaps that 
was before you came. The angels who know me best came 
one after another to tell me, and our Lord himself came 
to wish me joy. My son had found the way.” 

The little Pilgrim did not understand this, and almost 
thought that the painter must be mistaken or dreaming. 
She looked at him very anxiously and said — 

“I thought that those unhappy — never came out any 
more.” 

The painter smiled at her in return, and said — 

“Had you children in the old time?” 

She paused a little before she replied — 

“I had children in love,” she said, “but none that 
were born mine.” 

“ It is the same,” he said, “ it is the same; and if one of 
them had sinned against you, injured you, done wrong in 
any way, would you have cast him off, or what would you 
have done?” 

“ Oh!” said the little Pilgrim again, with a vivid light 
of memory coming into her face, which showed she had no 
need to think of this as a thing that might have happened, 
but knew. “I brought him home. I nursed him well 
again. I prayed for him night and day. Did you say cast 
him off? when he had most need of me? then I never 
could have loved him,” she cried. 

The painter nodded his head, and his hand with the 
pencil in it, for he had turned from his picture to look at 
her. 

“Then you think you love better than our Father?” he 
said; and turned to his work, and painted a new fold in 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 45 

the robe, which looked as if a soft hair had suddenly 
blown into it, and not the touch of a skillful hand. 

This made the Pilgrim tremble, as though in her ig- 
norance she had done something wrong. After that there 
came a great joy into her heart. “Oh, how happy you 
have made me!” she cried. “ I am glad with all my heart 

for you and your son ” Then she paused a little and 

added, “But you said he was still there.” 

“ It is true; for the land of darkness is very confusing, 
they tell me, for want of the true light; and our dear 
friends the angels are not permitted to help; but if one 
follows them, that shows the way. You may be in that 
land yet on your way hither. It was very hard to under- 
stand at first,” said the painter; “ there are some sketches 
I could show you. No one has ever made a picture of it, 
though many have tried; but I could show you some 
sketches — if you wish to see.” 

To this the little Pilgrim’s look was so plain an answer 
that the painter laid down his pallet and his brush, and left 
his work, to show them to her as he had promised. They 
went down from the balcony and along the street until 
they came to one of the great palaces, where many were 
coming and going. Here they walked through some vast 
halls, where students were working at easels doing every 
kind of beautiful work: some painting pictures, some, 
preparing drawings, planning houses and palaces. The 
Pilgrim would have liked to pause at every moment to see 
one lovely thing or another; but the painter walked on 
steadily till he came to a room which was full of sketches, 
some of them like pictures in little, with many figures, 
— some of them only a representation of a flower, or the 
wing of a bird. “These are all the master’s,” he said; 
“sometimes the sight of them will be enough to put 
semething great into the mind of another. In this cor- 
ner are the sketches I told you of.” There were two of 
them hanging together upon the wall, and at first it seemed 


46 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


to the little Pilgrim as if they represented the flames and 
fire of which she had read, and this made her shudder for 
the moment. But then she saw that it was a red light 
like a stormy sunset, with masses of clouds in the sky, 
and a low sun very fiery and dazzling, which no doubt to 
a hasty glance must have looked, with its dark shadows and 
high lurid lights, like the fires of the bottomless pit. But 
when you looked down you saw the reality what it was. 
The country that lay beneath was full of tropical foliage, 
but with many stretches of sand and dry plains, and in 
the foreground was a town that looked very prosperous 
and crowded, though the figures were very minute, the 
subject being so great; but no one to see it would have 
taken it for anything but a busy and wealthy place, in a 
thunderous atmosphere, with a storm coming on. In the 
next there was a section of a street with a great banquet- 
ing hall open to the view, and many people sitting about 
the table. You could see that there was a great deal of 
laughter and conversation going on, some very noisy groups, 
but others that sat more quietly in corners and conversed, 
and some who sang, and every kind of entertainment. The 
little Pilgrim was very much astonished to see this, and 
turned to the painter, who answered her directly, though 
she had not spoken. “ We used to think differently once. 
There are some who are there and do not know it. They 
think only it is the old life over again, but always worse, 
and they are led on in the ways of evil; but they do not 
feel the punishment until they begin to find out where 
they are and to struggle, and wish for other things.” 

• The little Pilgrim felt her heart beat very wildly while 
she looked at this, and she thought upon the rich man in 
the parable, who, though he was himself in torment, 
prayed that his brother might be saved, and she said to 
herself, “ Our dear Lord would never leave him there who 
could think of his brother when he was himself in such a 
strait.” And when she looked at the painter he smiled 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


47 


upon her, and nodded his head. Then he led her to the 
other corner of the room where there were other pictures. 
One of them was of a party seated round a table and an 
angel looking on. The angel had the aspect of a traveler, 
as if he were passing quickly by and had but paused a mo- 
ment to look, and one of the men glancing up suddenly 
saw him. The picture was dim, but the startled look upon 
this man’s face, and the sorrow on the angel’s, appeared 
out of the misty background with such truth that the tears 
came into the little Pilgrim’s eyes, and she said in her 
heart, “ Oh that I could go to him and help him!” The 
other sketches were dimmer and dimmer. You seemed to 
see, out of the darkness, gleaming lights and companies 
of revelers, out of which here and there was one trying to 
escape. And then the wide plains in the night, and the 
white vision of the angel in the distance, and here and 
there by different paths a fugitive striving to follow. 
“ Oh, sir,” said the little Pilgrim, “ how did you learn to 
do it? You have never been there.” 

“It was the master, not I; and I cannot tell you if he 
has ever been there. When the Father has given you that 
gift, you can go to many places, without leaving the one 
where you are. And then he has heard what the angels 
say.” 

“And will they all get safe at the last? and even that 
great spirit, he that fell from heaven ” 

The painter shook his head and said, “It is not per- 
mitted to you and me to know such great things. Perhaps 
the wise will tell you if you ask them: but for me I ask 
the Father in my heart and listen to what he says.” 

“That is best!” the little Pilgrim said; and she asked 
the Father in her heart: and there came all over her such 
a glow of warmth and happiness that her soul was satis- 
fied. She looked in the painter’s face and laughed for 
joy. And he put out his hands as if welcoming some one, 
and his countenance shone; and he said: 


48 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


“My son had a great gift. He was a master born, 
though it was not given to me. He shall paint it all for 
us so that the heart shall rejoice: and you will come again 
and see.” 

After that it happened to the little Pilgrim to enter into 
another great palace where there were many people read- 
ing, and some sitting at their desks and writing, and some 
consulting together, with many great volumes stretched 
out open upon the tables. One of these who was seated 
alone looked up as she paused wondering at him, and 
smiled as every one did, and greeted her with such a friendly 
tone that the Pilgrim, who always had a great desire to 
know, came nearer to him and looked at the book, then 
begged his pardon, and said she did not know that books 
were needed here. And then he told her that he was one 
of the historians of the city where all the records of the 
world were kept, and that it was his business to work upon 
the great history, and to show what was the meaning of 
the Father in everything that had happened, and how each 
event came in its right place. 

“And do you get it out of books?” she asked; for she 
was not learned, nor wise, and knew but little, though she 
always loved to know. 

“The books are the records,” he said; “and there are 
many here that were never known to us in the old days; 
for the angels love to look into these things, and they can 
tell us much, for they saw it; and in the great books they 
have kept there is much put down that was never in the 
books we wrote, for then we did not know. We found out 
about the kings and the state, and tried to understand 
what great purposes they were serving; but even these we 
did not know, for those purposes were too great for us, 
not knowing the end from the beginning, and the hearts 
of men were too great for us. We comprehended the evil 
sometimes, but never fathomed the good. And how could 
we know the lesser things which were working out God’s 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


49 


way? for some of these even the angels did not know; and 
it has happened to me that our Lord himself has come in 
sometimes to tell me of one that none of us had discov- 
ered.” 

“ Oh,” said the little Pilgrim, with tears in her eyes, 
“ I should like to have been that one! — that was not known 
even to the angels, but only to Himself!” 

The historian smiled. “ It was my brother,” he said. 

The Pilgrim looked at him with great wonder. 

“ Your brother, and you did not know him!” 

And then he turned over the pages and showed her 
where the story was. 

“ You know,” he said, “ that we who live here are not 
of your time, but have lived and lived here till the old 
life is far away and like a dream. There were great 
tumults and fightings in our time, and it was settled by 
the prince of the place that our town was to be abandoned, 
and all the people left to the mercy of an enemy who had 
no mercy. But every day as he rode out he saw at the 
door a child, a little fair boy, who sat on the steps, and 
sang his little song like a bird. This child was never 
afraid of anything, — when the horses pranced past him, 
and the troopers pushed him aside, he looked up into their 
faces and smiled. And when he had anything, a piece of 
bread, or an apple, or a plaything, he shared it with his 
playmates; and his little face, and his pretty voice, and all 
his pleasant ways made that corner bright. He was like a 
flower growing there; everybody smiled that saw him.” 

“I have seen such a child,” the little Pilgrim said. 

“ But we made no account of him,” said the historian. 
“ The lord of the place came past him every day, and 
always saw him singing in the sun by his father’s door. 
And it was a wonder then, and it has been a wonder ever 
since, why, having resolved upon it, that prince did not 
abandon the town, which would have changed all his fort- 
une after. Much had been made clear to me since I be- 


50 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


g an to study, but not this: till the Lord himself came to 
me and told me. The prince looked at the child till he 
loved him, and he reflected how many children there were 
like this that would be murdered, or starved to death, and 
he could not give up the little singiug boy to the sword. 
So he remained; and the town was saved, and lie became a 
great king. It was so secret that even the angels did not 
know it. But without that child the history would not 
have been complete.” 

“ And is he here?” the little Pilgrim said. 

“Ah,” said the historian, “that is more strange still; 
for that which saved him was also to his harm. He is not 
here. He is elsewhere.” 

The little Pilgrim’s face grew sad; but then she remem- 
bered what she had been told. 

“ But you know,” she said, “that he is coming?” 

“ I know that our Father will never forsake him, and 
that everything that is being accomplished in him is well.” 

“Is it well to suffer? Is it well to live in that dark 
stormy country? Oh, that they were all here, and happy 
like you!” 

He shook his head a little and said: 

“It was a long time before I got here; and as for suffer- 
ing, that matters little. You get experience by it. You 
are more accomplished and fit for greater work in the end. 
It is not for nothing that we are permitted to wander; and 
sometimes one goes to the edge of despair ” 

She looked at him with such wondering eyes that he an- 
swered her without a word. 

“Yes,” he said, “I have been there.” 

And then it seemed to her that there was something in 
his eyes which she had not remarked before. Not only the 
great content that was everywhere, but a deeper light, and 
the air of a judge who knew both good and evil, and could 
see both sides, and understood all, both to love and to hate. 

“Little sister, ”-he said, “you have never wandered far; 


A LITTLE PI LG HIM. 


51 


it is not needful for such as yon. Love teaches you, and 
you need no more ; but when we have to be trained for an 
office like this, to make the way of the Lord clear through 
all the generations, reason is that we should see everything, 
and learn all that man is and can be. These things are 
too deep for us ; we stumble on, and know not till after. 
But now to me it is all clear .” 

She looked at him again and again while he spoke, and 
it seemed to her that she saw in him such great knowledge 
and tenderness as made her glad; and how he could under- 
stand the follies that men had done, and fathom what real 
meaning was in them, and disentangle all the threads. He 
smiled as she gazed at him, and answered as if she had 
spoken. 

“ What was evil perishes, and what was good remains ; 
almost everywhere there is a little good. We could not 
understand all if we had not seen all and shared all.” 

“ And the punishment, too,” she said, wondering more 
and more. 

He smiled so joyfully that it was like laughter. 

“ Pain is a great angel,” he said. “ The reason we 
hated him in the old days was because he tended to death 
and decay; but when it is toward life he leads, we fear him 
no more. The welcome thing of all in the land of dark- 
ness is when you see him first and know who he is; for by 
this you are aware that you have found the way.” 

The little Pilgrim did nothing but question with her 
anxious eyes, for this was such a wonder to her, and she 
could not understand. But he only sat musing with a 
smile over the things he remembered. And at last he 
said: 

“If this is so interesting to you, you shall read it all in 
another place, in the room where we have laid up our own 
experiences, in order to serve for the history afterward. 
But we are still busy upon the work of the earth. There 
is always something new to be discovered. And it is es- 


52 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


sential for the whole world that the chronicle should be 
full. I am in great joy because it was but just now that 
our Lord told me about that child. Everything was im- 
perfect without him, but now it is clear. ” 

“ You mean your brother? And you are happy though 
you are not sure that he is happy ?” the little Pilgrim said. 

“It is not to be happy that we live,” said he; and then, 
“We are all happy so soon as we have found the way.” 

She would have asked him more, but that he was called 
to a consultation with some others of his kind, and had to 
leave her, waving his hand to her with a tender kindness 
which went to her heart. She looked after him with great 
respect, scarcely knowing why; but it seemed to her that 
a man who had been in the land of darkness, and made 
his way out of it, must be more wonderful than any other. 
She looked round for a little upon the great library, full 
of all the books that had ever been written, and where 
people were doing their work, examining and reading and 
making extracts, every one with looks of so much interest, 
that she almost envied them, — though it was a generous 
delight in seeing people so happy in their occupation, and 
a desire to associate herself somehow in it, rather than any 
grudging of their satisfaction, that was in her mind. She 
went about all the courts of this palace alone, and every- 
where saw the same work going on, and everywhere met 
the same kind looks. Even when the greatest of all looked 
up from his work and saw her, he would give her a friendly 
greeting and a smile; and nobody was too wise to lend an 
ear to the little visitor, or to answer her questions. And 
this was how it was that she began to talk to another, who 
was seated at a great table with many more, and who drew 
her to him by something that was in his looks, though she 
could not have told what it was. It was not that he was 
kinder than the rest, for they were all kind. She stood 
by him a little, and saw how he worked and would take 
something from one book and something from another, 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


53 


putting them ready for use. And it did not seem any 
trouble to do this work, but only pleasure, and the veVy 
pen in his hand was like a winged thing, as if it loved to 
write. When he saw her watching him, he looked up 
and showed her the beautiful book out of which he was 
copying, which was all illuminated with lovely pictures. 

“This is one of the volumes of the great history,” he 
said. “There are some things in it which are needed for 
another, and it is a pleasure to work at it. If you will 
come here you will be able to see the page while I write.” 

Then the little Pilgrim asked him some questions about 
the pictures, and he answered her, describing and explain- 
ing them; for they were in the middle of the history, and 
she did not understand what it was. When she said, “I 
ought not to trouble you, for you are busy,” he laughed so 
kindly chat she laughed too for pleasure. And he said, — 

“There is no trouble here. When we are not allowed 
to work, as sometimes happens, that makes us not quite so 
happy, but it is very seldom that it happens so.” 

“Is it for punishment?” she said. 

And then he laughed out with a sound which made all 
the others look up smiling; and if they had not all looked 
so tenderly at her, as at a child who has made such a 
mistake as it is pretty for a child to make, she would have 
feared she had said something wrong; but she only 
laughed at herself too, and blushed a little, knowing that 
she was not wise: and to put her at her ease again, he 
turned the leaf and showed her other pictures, and the 
story which went with them, from which he was copying 
something. And he said, — 

“ This is for another book, to show how the grace of the 
Father was beautiful in some homes and families. It is 
not the great history, but connected with it; and there are 
many who love that better than the history which is more 
great.” 

Then the little Pilgrim looked in his face and said, — 


54 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


“ What I want most is, to know about your homes 
here.” 

“It is all home here,” he said, and smiled; and then, 
as he met her wistful looks, he went on to tell her that he 
and his brothers were not always there. “ We have all 
our occupations,” he said, “ and sometimes I am seut to 
inquire into facts that have happened, of which the record 
is not clear: for we must omit nothing; and sometimes 
we are told to rest and take in new strength; and some- 
times ” 

“But oh, forgive me,” cried the little Pilgrim, “you 
had some who were more dear to you than all the world 
in the old time?” 

And the others all looked up again at the question, and 
looked at her with tender eyes, and said to the man whom 
she questioned, — “ Speak!” 

He made a little pause before he spoke, and he looked 
at one here and there, and called to them, — 

“ Patience, brother,” and “ Courage, brother.” And 
then he said, “ Those whom we loved best are nearly all 
with us; but some have not yet come.” 

“ Oh,” said the little Pilgrim, “ but how then do you 
bear it to be parted so long — so long?” 

Then one of those to whom the first speaker had called 
out “Patience” rose, and came to her smiling, and he 
said, — 

“I think every hour that perhaps she will come, and 
the joy will be so great that thinking of that makes the 
waiting short: and nothing here is long, for it never ends; 
and it will be so wonderful to hear her tell how the Father 
has guided her, that it will be a delight to us all; and she 
will be able to explain many things, not only for us, but 
for all; and we love each other so that this separation is as 
nothing in comparison with what is to come.” 

It was beautiful to hear this, but it was not what the 
little Pilgrim expected, for she thought they would have 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


55 


told her of the homes to which they all returned when their 
work was over, and a life which was like the life of the old 
time; but of this they said nothing, only looking at her 
with smiling eyes, as at the curious questions of a child. 
And there were many other things she would have asked, 
but refrained when she looked at them, feeling as if she 
did not yet understand; when one of them broke forth 
suddenly in a louder voice, and said, — 

“ The little sister knows only the little language and the 
beginning of days. She has not learned the mysteries, 
and what Love is, and what life is.” 

And another cried, “It is sweet to hear it again;” and 
they all gathered round her with tender looks, and began 
to talk to each other, and tell her, as men will tell of the 
games of their childhood, of things that happened, which 
were half forgotten, in the old time.. 

After this the little Pilgrim went out again into the beau- 
tiful city,feeling in her heart that everything was a mystery, 
and that the days would never be long enough to learn all 
that had yet to be learned, but knowing now that this too 
was the little language, and pleased with the sweet thought 
of so much that was to come. For one had whispered to 
her as she went out that the new tongue, and every ex- 
planation, as she was ready for it, would come to her 
through one of those whom she loved best, which is the 
usage of that country. And when the stranger has no one 
there that is very dear, then it is an angel who teaches the 
greater language, and that is what happens often to the 
children who are brought up in that heavenly place. When 
she reached the street again, she was so pleased with this 
thought that it went out of her mind to ask her way to the 
great library, where she was to read the story of the 
historian’s journey through the land of darkness; indeed 
she forgot that land altogether, and thought only 
of what was around her in the great city, which 
is beyond everything that eye has seen, or that ear has 


56 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


heard, or that it has entered into the imagination to 
conceive. And now it seemed to her that she was much 
more familiar with the looks of the people, and could dis- 
tinguish between those who belonged to the city and those 
who were visitors like herself; and also could tell which 
they were who had entered into the mysteries of the king- 
dom, and which were, like herself, only acquainted with 
the beginning of days. And it came to her mind, she 
could not tell how, that it was best not to ask questions, 
but to wait until the beloved one should come, who would 
teach her the first words. For ki the meantime she did 
not feel at all impatient or disturbed by her want of knowl- 
edge, but laughed a little at herself to suppose that she 
could find out everything, and went on looking round her, 
and saying a word to every one she met, and enjoying the 
holiday looks of all the strangers, and the sense she had in 
her heart of holiday too. She was walking on in this 
pleasant way, when she heard a sound that was like silver 
triu mpets, and saw the crowd turn toward an open space 
in which all the beautiful buildings were shaded with fine 
trees, and flowers were springing at the very edge of the 
pavements. The strangers all hastened along to hear what 
it was, and she with them, and some also of the people of 
the place. And as the little Pilgrim found herself walking 
by a woman who was of these last, she asked her what it 
was. 

And the woman told her it was a poet who had come to 
say to them what had been revealed to him, and that the 
two with the silver trumpets were angels of the musicians’ 
order, whose office it was to proclaim everything that was 
new, that the people should know. And many of those 
who were at work in the palaces came out and joined the 
crowd, and the painter who had showed the little Pilgrim 
his picture, and many whose faces she began to be 
acquainted with. The poet stood up upon a beautiful 
pedestal all sculptured in stone, and with wreaths of living 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


57 


flowers hung upon it — and when the crowd had gathered 
in front of him, he began his poem. He told them that it 
was not about this land, or anything that happened in it, 
which they knew as he did, but that it was a story of the 
old time, when men were walking in darkness, and when 
no one knew the true meaning even of what he himself 
did, but had to go on as if blind, stumbling and groping 
with their hands. And “ Oh, brethren,” he said, 
“ though all is more beautiful and joyful here where we 
know, yet to remember the days when we knew not, and 
the ways when all was uncertain, and the end could not 
be distinguished from the beginning, is sweet and dear; 
and that which was done in the dim twilight should be 
celebrated in the day; and our Father himself loves to hear 
of those who, having not seen, loved, and who learned 
without any teacher, and followed the light, though they 
did not understand.” 

And then he told them the story of one who had lived 
in the old time; and in that air, which seemed to be made 
of sunshine, and amid all those stately palaces, he described 
to them the little earth which they had left behind — the 
skies that were covered with clouds, and the ways that 
were so rough and stony, and the cruelty of the oppressor, 
and the cries of those that were oppressed. And he showed 
the sickness and the troubles, and the sorrow and danger; 
and how Death stalked about, and tore heart from heart; 
and how sometimes the strongest would fail, and the truest 
fall under the power of a lie, and the tenderest forget to 
be kind; and how evil things lurked in every corner to 
beguile the dwellers there; and how the days were short 
and'the nights dark, and life so little that by the time a 
man had learned something it was his hour to die. “ What 
can a soul do that is born there?” he cried; “for war is 
there and fighting, and perplexity and darkness; and no 
man knows if that which he does will be for good or evil, 
or can tell which is the best way, or know the end from 


58 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


the beginning; and those he loves the most are a mystery 
to him, and their thoughts beyond his reach. And clouds 
are between him and the Father, and he is deceived with 
false gods and false teachers, who make him to love a lie.” 
The people who were listening held their breath, and a 
shadow like a cloud fell on them, and they remembered 
and knew that it was true. But the next moment their 
hearts rebelled, and one and another would have spoken, 
and the little Pilgrim herself had almost cried out and made 
her plea for the dear earth which she loved; when he sud- 
denly threw forth his voic# again like a great song. “ Oh, 
dear mother earth,” he cried; “ oh, little world and great, 
forgive thy son! for lovely thou art and dear, and the sun 
of God shines upon thee, and the sweet dews fall; and 
there were we born, and loved and died, and are come hence 
to bless the Father and the Son. For in no other world 
though they are so vast, is it given to any to know the 
Lord in the darkness, and follow him groping, and make 
their way through sin and death, and overcome the evil, and 
conquer in his name.” At which there was a great sound 
of weeping and of triumph, and the little Pilgrim could 
not contain herself, but cried out too in joy as if for a de- 
liverance. And then the poet told his tale. And as he 
told them of the man who was poor and sorrowful and 
alone, and how he loved and was not loved again, and 
trusted and was betrayed, and was tempted and drawn 
into the darkness, so that it seemed as if he must perish; 
but when hope was almost gone, turned again from the 
edge of despair, and confronted all his enemies, and fought 
and conquered, — the people followed every word with great 
outcries of love and pity and wonder. For each one as he 
listened remembered his own career and that of his breth- 
ren in the old life, and admired to think that all the evil 
was passed, and wondered that out of such tribulation and 
through so many dangers all were safe and blessed here. 
And there were others that were not of them, who listened, 


A LITTLE PILGRIM, 


59 


some seated at the windows of the palaces and some stand- 
ing in the great square, — people who were not like the 
others, whose bearing was more majestic, and who looked 
upon the crowd all smiling and weeping, with wonder and 
interest, but had no knowledge of the cause, and listened 
as it were to a tale that is told. The poet and his audience 
were as one, and at every period of the story there was a 
deep breathing and pause, and every one looked at his 
neighbor, and some grasped each other’s hands as they re- 
membered all that was in the past; but the strangers listened 
and gazed and observed all, as those who listen and are in- 
structed in something beyond their knowledge. The little 
Pilgrim stood all this time not knowing where she was, so 
intent was she upon the tale; and as she listened it seemed 
to her that all her own life was rolling out before her, and 
she remembered the things that had been, and perceived 
how all had been shaped and guided, and trembled a little 
for the brother who was in danger, yet knew that all would 
be well. 

The woman who had been at her side listened too with 
all her heart, saying to herself, as she stood in the crowd, 
“ He has left nothing out! The little days they were so 
short, and the skies would change all in a moment and 
one’s heart with them. How he brings it all back!” And 
she put up her hand to dry away a tear from her eyes, 
though her face all the time was shining with the recol- 
lection. The little Pilgrim was glad to be by the side of a 
woman after talking with so many men, and she put out 
her hand and touched the cloak that this lady wore, and 
which was white and of the most beautiful texture, with 
gold threads woven in it or something that looked like 
gold. 

“Do you like,” she said, “to think of the old time?” 

The woman turned and looked down upon her, for she 
was tall and stately, and immediately took the hand of the 
little Pilgrim into hers, and held it without answering, till 


60 


A LITTLE PILGRIM, 


the poet had ended and come down from the place where 
he had been standing. He came straight through the 
crowd to where this lady stood, and said something to her. 
“ You did well to tell me/’ looking at her with love in his 
eyes,— not the tender sweetness of all those kind looks 
around, but the love that is for one. The little Pilgrim 
looked at them with her heart beating, and was very glad 
for them, and happy in herself; for she had not seen this 
love before since she came into the city, and it had troubled 
her to think that perhaps it did not exist any more. “I 
am glad,” the lady said, and gave him her other hand; 
“ but here is a little sister who asks me something, and I 
must answer her. I think she has but newly come.” 

“ She has a face full of the morning,” the poet said. 
It did the little Pilgrim good to feel the touch of the 
warm, soft hand; and she was not afraid, but lifted her 
eyes and spoke to the lady and to the poet. “It is beau- 
tiful what you said to us. Sometimes in the old time we 
used to look up to the beautiful skies and wonder what 
there was above the clouds; but we never thought that up 
here in this great city you would be thinking of what we 
were doing, and making beautiful poems all about us. We 
thought that you would sing wonderful psalms, and talk of 
things high, high above us.” 

“The little sister does not know what the meaning of 
die earth is,” the poet said. “ It is but a little speck, 
but itjs the center of all. Let her walk with us, and we 
will go home, and you will tell her, Ama, for I love to 
hear you talk.” 

“Will you come with us?” the lady said. 

And the little PilgrinTs heart leaped up in her, to think, 
she was now going to see a home in this wonderful city; 
and they went along, hand in hand, and though they were 
three together, and many were coming and going, there 
was no difficulty, for every one made way for them. And 
there was a little murmur of pleasure as the poet passed, 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


61 


and those who had heard his poem made obeisance to him, 
and thanked him, and thanked the Father for him that he 
was able to show them so many beautiful things. And 
they walked along the street which was shining with color, 
and saw as they passed how the master painter had come 
to his work, and was standing upon the balcony where the 
little Pilgrim had been, and bringing out of the wall, un- 
der his hand, faces which were full of life, and which 
seemed to spring forth as if they had been hidden there. 
“ Let us wait a little and see him working,” the poet said; 
and all round about the people stopped on their way, and 
there was a soft cry of pleasure and praise all through the 
beautiful street. And the painter with whom the little 
Pilgrim had talked before came, and stood behind her as 
if he had been an old friend, and called out to her at 
every new touch to mark how this and that was done. 
She did not understand as he did, but she saw how beau- 
tiful it was, and she was glad to have seen the great painter, 
as she had been glad to hear the great poet. It seemed to 
the little Pilgrim as if everything happened well for her, 
and that no one had ever been so blessed before. And to 
make it all more sweet, this new friend, this great and 
sweet lady, always held her hand, and pressed it softly 
when something more lovely appeared; and even the pict- 
ured faces on the wall seemed to beam upon her as they 
came out one by one like the stars in the sky. Then the 
three went on again, and passed by many more beautiful 
palaces, and great streets leading away into the light, till 
you could see no further; and they met with bands of 
singers who sang so 3weetly that the heart seemed to leap 
out of the Pilgrim’s breast to meet with them, for above all 
things this was what she had loved most. And out of one 
of the palaces there came such glorious music that every- 
thiug she had seen and heard before seemed as nothing in 
comparison. And amid all these delights they went on 
and on, but without wearying, till they came out of the 


62 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


streets into lonely walks and alleys, and made their way to 
the banks of a great river, which seemed to sing, too, a 
soft melody of its own. 

And here there were some fair houses surrounded by 
gardens and flowers that grew everywhere, and the doors 
were all open, and within everything was lovely and still, 
and ready for rest if you were weary. The little Pilgrim 
was not weary; but the lady placed her upon a couch in 
the porch, where the pillars and the roof were all formed 
of interlacing plants and flowers; and there they sat with 
her, and talked, and explained to her many things. They 
told her that the earth though so small was the place in all 
the worlds to which the thoughts of those above were 
turned. “And not only of us who have lived there, but 
of all our brothers in the other worlds; for we are the race 
which the Father has chosen to be the example. In every 
age there is one that is the scene of the struggle and the 
victory, and it is for this reason that the chronicles are 
made, and that we are all placed here to gather the mean- 
ing of what has been done among men. And I am one of 
those,” the lady said, “ that go back to the dear earth and 
gather up the tale of what our little brethren are doing. 
I have not to succor like some others, but only to see and 
bring the news; and he makes them into great poems, as 
you have heard; and sometimes the master painter will 
take one and make of it a picture; and there is nothing 
that is so delightful to u*s as when we can bring back the 
histories of beautiful things.” 

“But, oh,” said the little Pilgrim, “what can there 
be on earth so beautiful as the meanest thing that is 
here?” 

Then they both smiled upon her, and said, “ It is more 
beautiful than the most beautiful thing here to see how, 
under the low skies and in the short days, a soul will turn 
to our Father. And sometimes,” said Ama, “when I am 
watching, one will wander and stray, and be led into the 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


63 


dark till my heart is sick; then come back and make me 
glad. Sometimes I cry out within myself to the Father, 
and say, ‘ 0 my Father, it is enough!’ and it will seem to 
me that it is not possible to stand by and see his destruc- 
tion. And then while you are gazing, while you are cry- 
ing, he will recover and return, and goon again. And to 
the angels it is more wonderful than to us, for they have 
never lived there. And all the other worlds are eager to 
hear what we can tell them. For no one knows except 
the Father how the battle will turn, or when it will all be 
accomplished; and there are some who tremble for our lit- 
tle brethren. For to look down and see how little light 
there is, and how no one knows what may happen to him 
next, makes them afraid who never were there.” 

The little Pilgrim listened with an intent face, clasping 
her hands, and said, — 

“ But it never could be that our Father should be over- 
come by evil. Is not that known in all the worlds?” 

Then the lady turned and kissed her; and the poet 
broke forth in singing, and said, “ Faith is more heavenly 
than heaven; it is more beautiful than the angels. It is 
the only voice that can answer to our Father. We praise 
him, we glorify him, we love his name; but there is but 
one response to him through all the worlds, and that is the 
cry of the little brothers, who see nothing and know noth- 
ing, but believe that he will never fail.” 

At this the little Pilgrim wept, for her heart was touched; 
but she said, — 

“ We are not so ignorant; for we have our Lord who is 
our Brother, and he teaches us all that we require to 
know.” 

Upon this the poet rose and lifted up his hands and 
sang again a great song; it was in the other language 
which the little Pilgrim still did not understand, but she 
could make out that it sounded like a great proclamation 


64 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


that He was wise as he was good, and called upon all to 
see that the Lord had chosen the only way: and the sound 
of the poet’s voice was like a great trumpet sounding bold 
and sweet, as if to tell this to those who were far away. 

“For you must know,” said the LadyAma, who all the 
time held the Pilgrim’s hand, “that it is permitted to all 
to judge according to the wisdom that has been given 
them. And there are some who think that our dear Lord 
might have found another way, and that wait, sometimes 
with trembling, lest he should fail; but not among us 
who have lived on earth, for we know. And it is our work 
to show to all the worlds that his way never fails, and how 
wonderful it is, and beautiful above all that heart has con- 
ceived. And thus we justify the ways of God, who is our 
Father. But in the other worlds there are many who will 
continue to fear until the history of the earth is all ended 
and the chronicles are made complete.” 

“And will that be long?” the little Pilgrim cried, feel- 
ing in her heart that she would like to go to all the worlds 
and tell them of our Lord, and of his love, and how the 
thought of him makes you strong; and it troubled her a 
little to hear her friends speak of the low skies, and the 
short days, and the dimness of that dear country which 
she had left behind, in which there were so many still 
whom she loved. 

Upon this Ama shook her head, and said that of that 
day no one knew, not even our Lord, but only the Father; 
and then she smiled and answered the little Pilgrim’s 
thought. “When we go back,” she said, “it is not 
as when we lived there; for now we see all the dan- 
gers of it and the mysteries which we did not see before. 
It was by the Father’s dear love that we did not see what 
was around us and about us while we lived there, for then 
our hearts would have fainted; and that makes us wonder 
now that any one endures to the end.” 

“You are a great deal wiser than I am,” said the little 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 65 

Pilgrim; “ but though our hearts had fainted, how could 
we have been overcome? for He was on our side.” 

At this neither of them made any reply at first, but 
looked at her; and at length the poet said that she had 
brought many thoughts back to his mind, and how he had 
himself been almost worsted when one like her came to 
him and gave strength to his soul. “ For that He was on 
our side was the only thing she knew,” he said, “and all 
that could be learned or discovered was not worthy of 
naming beside it. And this I must tell when next I speak 
to the people, and how our little sister brought it to my 
mind.” 

And then they paused from this discourse, and the little 
Pilgrim looked round upon the beautiful houses and the 
fair gardens, and she said, — 

“ You live here? and do you come home at night? — but 
I do not mean at night, I mean when your work is done. 
And are they poets like you that dwell all about in these 

pleasant places, and the ” 

She would have said the children, but stopped, not know- 
ing if perhaps it might be unkind to speak of the children 
when she saw none there. 

Upon this the lady smiled once more, and said, — 

“The door stands open always, so that no one is shut 
out, and the children come and go when they will. They 
are children no longer, and they have their appointed work 
like him and me.” 

“And you are always among those you love?” the Pil- 
grim said; upon which they smiled again and said, “ We 
all love each other;” and the lady held her hand in both 
of hers, and caressed it, and softly laughed and said, 
“ You know only the little language. When you have been 
taught the other you will learn many beautiful things.” 

She rested for some time after this, and talked much 
with her new friends; and then there came into the heart 
of the little Pilgrim a longing to go to the place which was 


66 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


appointed for her, and which was her home, and to do the 
work which had been given her to do. And when the 
lady saw this she rose and said that she would accompany 
her a little upon her way. But the poet bid her farewell 
and remained under the porch, with the green branches 
shading him, and the flowers twining round the pillars, 
and the open door of this beautiful house behind him. 
When she looked back upon him he waved his hand to her 
as if bidding her Godspeed, and the lady by her side 
looked back too and waved her hand, and the little Pil- 
grim felt tears of happiness come to her eyes; for she had 
been wondering with a little disappointment to see that 
the people in the city, except those who were strangers, 
were chiefly alone, and not like those in the old world 
where the husband and wife go together. It consoled her 
to see again two who were one. The lady pressed her 
hand in answer to her thought, and bade her pause a 
moment and look back into the city as they passed the end 
of the great street out of which they came. And then the 
Pilgrim was more and more consoled, for she saw many 
who had before been alone now walking together hand in 
hand. 

“ It is not as it was,” Ama said. “For all of us have 
work to do which is needed for the worlds, and it is no 
longer needful that one should sit at home while the other 
goes forth; for our work is not for our life as of old, or for 
ourselves, but for the Father who has given us so great a 
rust. And, little sister, you must know that though we 
are not so great as the angels, nor as many that come to 
visit us from the other worlds, yet are nearer to him. For 
we are in his secret, and it is ours to make it clear.” 

The little Pilgrim’s heart was very full to hear this; but 
she said,— 

“I was never clever, nor knew much. It is better for 
me to go away to my little border-land, and help the 
strangers who do not know the way.” 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


67 


“ Whatever is your work is the best,” the lady said; 
“ but though you are so little you are in the Father’s se- 
cret too; for it is nature to you to know what the others 
cannot be sure of, that we must have the victory at the 
last: so that we have this between us, the Father and we. 
And though all are his children, we are of the kindred of 
God, because of our Lord who is our Brother.” And then 
the Lady Ama kissed her, and bade her when she returned 
to the great city, either for rest or for love, or because the 
Father sent for her, that she should come to the house by 
the river. “ For we are friends forever,” she said, and so 
threw her white veil over her head, and was gone upon her 
mission, whither the little Pilgrim did not know. 

And now she found herself at a distance from the great 
city, which shone in the light with its beautiful towers, 
and roofs, and all its monuments, softly fringed with trees, 
and set in a heavenly firmament. And the Pilgrim 
thought of those words that described this lovely place as 
a bride adorned for her husband, and did not wonder at 
him who had said that her streets were of gold and her 
gates of pearl, because gold and pearls and precious jewels 
were as nothing to the glory and the beauty of her. The 
little Pilgrim was glad to have seen these wonderful things, 
and her mind was like a cup running over with almost 
more than it could contain. It seemed to her that there 
never could be a time when she should want for wonder and 
interest and delight, so long as she had this to think of. 
Yet she was not sorry to turn her back upon the beautiful 
city, but went on her way singing in unutterable content, 
and thinking over what the lady had said, that we were in 
God’s secret, more than all the great worlds above and even 
the angels, because of knowing how it is that in darkness 
and doubt, and without any open vision, a man may still 
keep the right way. The path lay along the bank of the 
river which flowed beside her and made the air full of music, 
and a soft air blew across the running stream and breathed 


68 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


in her face and refreshed her, and the birds sang in all the 
trees. And as she passed through the villages the people 
came out to meet her and asked of her if she had come 
from the city, and what she had seen there. And every- 
where she found friends, and kind voices that gave her 
greeting. But some would ask her why she still spoke the 
little language, though it was sweet to their ears; and 
others when they heard it hastened to call from the 
houses and the fields some among them who knew 
the other tongue but a little, and who came and 
crowded round the little Pilgrim, and asked her many 
questions both about the things she had been seeing 
and about the old time. And she perceived that the 
village folk were a simple folk, not learned and wise like 
those she had left; and that though they lived within sight 
of the great city, and showed every stranger the beautiful 
view of it, and the glory of its towers, yet few among them 
had traveled there; for they were so content with their 
fields, and their river, and the shade of their trees, and 
the birds singing, and their simple life, that they wanted 
no change; though it pleased them to receive the little 
Pilgrim, and they brought her into their villages rejoicing, 
and called every one to see her. And they told her that 
they had all been poor and labored hard in the old time, 
and had never rested; so that now it was the Father’s good 
pleasure that they should enjoy great peace and consolation 
among the fresh-breathing fields and on the river-side, so 
that there were many who even now had little occupation 
except to think of the Father’s goodness, and to rest. And 
they told her how the Lord himself would come among 
them, and sit down under a tree, and tell them one of his, 
parables, and make them all more happy than words could 
say; and how sometimes he would send one out of the 
beautiful city, with a poem or tale to say to them, and 
bands of lovely music, more lovely than anything beside, 
except the sound of the Lord’s own voice. “ And what is 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


69 


more wonderful, the angels themselves come often and 
listen to us,” they said, “ when we begin to talk and remind 
each other of the old time and how we suffered heat and 
cold, and were bowed down with labor, and bending oyer 
the soil, and how sometimes the harvest would fail us, and 
sometimes we had not bread, and sometimes would hush 
he children to sleep because there was nothing to give 
them; and how we grew old and weary, and still worked on 
and on.” “ We are those who were old,” a number of them 
called out to her with a murmuring sound of laughter, one 
looking over another’s shoulder. And one woman said, 
“ The angels say to us, ‘ Did you never think the Father 
had forsaken you and the Lord forgotten you?’ ” And all 
the rest answered as in a chorus, “ There were moments 
that we thought this; but all the time we knew that it 
could not be.” “ And the angels wonder at us,” said an- 
other. All this they said, crowding one before another, 
everyjone anxious to say something, and sometimes speaking 
together, but always in accord. And then there was a 
sound of laughter and pleasure, both at the strange thought 
that the Lord could have forgotten them, and at the won- 
der of the angels over their simple tales. And immediately 
they began to remind each other, and say, “ Do you re- 
member?” and they told the little Pilgrim a hundred tales 
of the hardships and troubles they had known, all smiling 
and radiant with pleasure; and at every new account the 
others would applaud and rejoice, feeling the happiness all 
the more for the evils that were past. And some of them 
led her into their gardens to show her their flowers, and to 
tell her how they had begun to study and learn how colors 
were changed and form perfected, and the secrets of the 
growth and of the germ, of which they had been ignorant. 
And others arranged themselves in choirs, and sang to her 
delightful songs of the fields, and accompanied her out upon 
her way, singing and answering to each other. The differ- 
ence between the simple folk and the greatness of the 


70 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


others made the little Pilgrim wonder and admire; and she 
loved them in her simplicity, and turned back many a 
time to wave her hand to them, and to listen to the lovely 
simple singing as it went further and further away. It 
had an evening tone of rest and quietness, and of protec- 
tion and peace. “ He leadeth me by the green pastures 
and beside the quiet waters,” she said to herself; and her 
heart swelled with pleasure to think that it was those who 
had been so old, and so weary and poor, who had this rest 
to console them for all their sorrows. 

And as she went along, not only did she pass through 
many other villages, but met many on the way who were 
traveling toward the great city, and would greet her 
sweetly as they passed, and sometimes stop to say a pleas- 
ant word, so that the little Pilgrim was never lonely 
wherever she went. But most of them began to [speak 
to her in the other language, which was as beautiful and 
sweet as music, but which she could not understand; and 
they were surprised to find her ignorant of it, not knowing 
that she was but a new-comer into these lands. And 
there were many things that could not be told but in that 
language, for the earthly tongue had no words to express 
them. The little Pilgrim was a little sad not to under- 
stand what was said to her, but cheered herself with the 
thought that it should be taught to her by one whom she 
loved best. The way by the river-side was very cheer- 
ful and bright, with many people coming and going, and 
many villages, some of them with a bridge across the 
stream, some withdrawn among the fields, but all of 
them bright and full of life, and with sounds of music, 
and voices, and footsteps: and the little Pilgrim felt 
no weariness, and moved along as lightly as a child, 
taking great pleasure in everything she saw, and an- 
swering all the friendly greetings with all her heart, 
yet glad to think that she was approaching ever 
nearer to the country where it was ordained that she 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


71 


should dwell for a time and succor the strangers, and re- 
ceive those who were newly arrived. And she consoled 
herself with the thought that there was no need of any 
language but that which she knew. As this went through 
her mind, making her glad, she suddenly became aware 
of one who was walking by her side, a lady who was 
covered by a veil white and shining like that which Ama 
had worn in the beautiful city. It hung about this 
stranger’s head so that it was not easy to see her face, but 
the sound of her voice was very sweet in the Pilgrim’s ear, 
yet startled her like the sound of something which she 
knew well, but could not remember. And as there were 
few who were going that way, she was glad and said, 
“Let us walk together, if that pleases you.” And the 
stranger said, “ It is for that I have come,” which was a 
reply which made the little Pilgrim wonder more and 
more, though she was very glad and joyful to have this 
companion upon her way. And then the lady began to ask 
her many questions, not about the city, or the great things 
she had seen, but about herself, and what the dear Lord 
had given her to do. 

“ I am little and weak, and I cannot do much,” the 
little Pilgrim said. “ It is nothing but pleasure. It is 
to welcome those that are coming, and tell them. Some- 
times they are astonished and do not know. I was so my- 
self. I came in my sleep, and understood nothing. But 
now that I know, it is sweet to tell them that they need 
not fear.” 

“I was glad,” the lady said, “that you came in your 
sleep; for sometimes the way is dark and hard, and you 
are little and tender. When your brother comes you will 
be the first to see him, and show him the way.” 

“ My brother! is he coming?” the little Pilgrim cried. 
And then she said with a wistful look, “ But we are all 
brethren, and you mean only one of those who are the 
children of our Father. You must forgive me that I do 


72 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


not know the higher speech, but only what is natural, for 
I have not yet been long here.” 

“He whom I mean is called ” and here the lady 

said a name which was the true name of a brother born 
whom the Pilgrim loved above all others. She gave a cry, 
and then she said, trembling: “I know your voice, bur 
I cannot see your face. And what you say makes me 
think of many things. No one else has covered her face 
when she has spoken to me. I know you and yet I cannot 
tell who you are.” 

The woman stood for a little without saying a word, and 
then very softly, in a voice which only the heart heard, she 
called the little Pilgrim by her name. 

“Mother,” cried the Pilgrim, with such a cry of joy 
that it echoed all about in the sweet air, and flung herself 
upon the veiled lady, and drew the veil from her face, and 
saw that it was she. And with this sight there came a 
revelation which flooded her soul with happiness. For 
the face which had been old and feeble was old no longer, 
but fair in the maturity of day; and the figure that had 
been bent and weary was full of a tender majesty, and the 
arms that clasped her about were warm and soft with love 
and life. And all that had changed their relations in the 
other days and made the mother in her weakness seem as 
a child, and transferred all protection and strength to the 
daughter, was gone forever: and the little Pilgrim beheld 
in a rapture one who was her sister and equal, yet ever 
above her, — more near to her than any, though all were so 
near, — one of whom she herself was a part, yet another, 
and who knew all her thoughts and the way of them be- 
fore they arose in her. And to see her face as in the days 
of her prime, and her eyes so clear and wise, and to feel 
once more that which is different from the love of all, that 
which is still most sweet where all is sweet, the love of one, 
was like a crown to her in her happiness. The little Pil- 
grim could not think for joy, nor say a word, but held this 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


73 


dear mother’s handstand looked in her face, and her heart 
soared away to the Father in thanks and joy. They sat 
down by the roadside under the shade of the trees, — while 
the river ran softly by, and everything was hushed out of 
sympathy and kindness, and questioned each other of all 
that had been and was to be. And the little Pilgrim told 
all the little news of home, and of the brothers and sisters 
and the children that had been born, and of those whose 
faces were turned toward this better country; and the 
mother smiled and listened and would have heard all over 
and over, although many things she already knew. “ But 
why should I tell you, for did not yom watch over us and 
see all we did, and were not you near us always?” the little 
Pilgrim said. 

“How could that be?” said the mother; “for we are 
not like our Lord to be everywhere. We come and go 
where we are sent. But sometimes we knew, and some- 
times saw, and always loved. And whenever our hearts 
were sick for news it was but to go to him, and he told us 
everything. And now my little one, you are as we are, 
and have seen the Lord. And this has been given us, to 
teach our child once more, and show you the heavenly 
language, that you may understand all, both the little and 
the great.” 

Then the Pilgrim lifted her head from her mother’s 
bosom, and looked in her face with eyes full of longing. 

“You said ‘ we,’ ” she said. 

The mother did nothing but smile; then lifted her eyes 
and looked along the beautiful path of the river to where 
someone was coming to join them. And the little Pilgrim 
cried out again, in wonder and joy; and presently found 
herself seated between them, her father and her mother, 
the two who had loved her most in the other days. They 
looked more beautiful than the angels and all the great 
persons whom she had seen; for still they were hers and 
she was theirs more than all the angels and all the blessed 


74 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


could be. And thus she learned that though the new 
may take the place of the old, and many things may 
blossom out of it like flowers, yet that the old is never 
done away. And then they say together, telling of every- 
thing that had befallen, and all the tender things that 
were of no import, and all the great changes and noble 
ways, and the wonders of heaven above and the earth 
beneath, for all were open to them, both great and small; 
and when they had satisfied their souls with these, her 
father and mother began to teach her the other language, 
smiling often at her faltering tongue, and telling her the 
same thing over and over till she learnt it; and her father 
called her his little foolish one, as he had done in the old 
days; and at last, when they had kissed her and blessed 
her, and told her how to come home to them when she 
was weary, they gave her, as the Father had permitted 
them, with joy and blessing, her new name. 

The little Pilgrim was tired with happiness and all the 
wonder and pleasure; and as she sat there in the silence, 
leaning upon those who were so dear to her, the soft air 
grew sweeter and sweeter about her, and thej light faded 
softly into a dimness of tender indulgence and privilege for 
her, because she was still little and weak. And whether 
that heavenly suspense of all her faculties was sleep or not 
she knew not, but it was such as in all her life she had 
never known. When she came back to herself, it was by 
the sound of many voices calling her, and many people has- 
tening past and beckoning to her to join them. 

“Come, come,” they said, “little sister: there has been 
great trouble in the other life, and many have arrived sud- 
denly and are afraid. Come, come, and help them, — come 
and help them!” 

And she sprang up from her soft geat, and found that 
she was no longer by the river-side, or within sight of the 
great city, or in the arms of those she loved, but stood on 
one of the flowery paths of her own border-land, and saw 


A LITTLE PILGRIM. 


75 


her fellows hastening toward the gates where there seemed 
a great crowd. And she was no longer weary, but full of 
life and strength; and it seemed to her that she could take 
them up in her arms, those trembling strangers, and carry 
them straight to the Father, so strong was she, and light, 
and full of force. And above all the gladness she had felt, 
and all her pleasure in what she had seen, and more happy 
even than the meeting with those she loved most, was her 
happiness now, as she went along as light as the breeze to 
receive the strangers. She was so eager that she began to 
sing a song of welcome as she hastened on. ” 0, welcome, 
welcome !” she cried; and as she sang she knew it was one 
of the heavenly melodies which she had heard in the great 
city; and she hastened on, her feet flying over the flowery 
ways, thinking how the great worlds were all watching, and 
the angels looking on, and the whole universe waiting till 
it should be proved to them that the dear Lord, the Brother 
of us all, had chosen the perfect way, and that over all evil 
and the sorrow he was the Conqueror alone. 

And the little Pilgrim’s voice, though it was so small, 
echoed away through the great firmament to where the 
other worlds were watching to see what should come, and 
cheered the anxious faces of some great lords and princes 
far more great than she, who were of a nobler race than 
man; for it was said among the stars that when such a 
little sound could reach so far, it was a token that the Lord 
had chosen aright, and that his method must be the best. 
And it breathed over the earth like some one saying Cour- 
age! to those whose hearts were failing; and it dropped 
down, down, into the great confusions and traffic of the 
Land of Darkness, and startled many, like the cry of a 
child calling and calling, and never ceasing, “Come! and 
come! and come!” 


the ejid. 


fhe Seaside Library. 


ORDINARY EDITION. 


GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 

P. O. Box 3751* 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, New York. 


The following works contained in The Seaside Library, Ordinary Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, cn 
receipt of 12 cents for single numbers, and 25 cents for double numbers, by the 
publisher. Parties ordering by mail will please order by numbers. 


N0 MRS. ALEXANDER’S WORKS. PRICE . 

30 Her Dearest Foe 20 

36 The Wooing O’t 20 

46 The Heritage of Langdale 20 

370 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

400 Which Shall it Be? 20 

532 Maid, Wife, or Widow? 10 

1231 The Freres. 20 

1259 Valerie’s Fate 10 

1391 Look Before You Leap 20 

1502 The Australian Aunt 10 

1595 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

WILLIAM BLACK’S WORKS. 

13 A Princess of Thule 20 

28 A Daughter of Heth 10 

47 In Silk Attire 10 

48 The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton 10 

51 Kilmeny 10 

53 The Monarch of Mincing Lane 10 

79 Madcap Violet (small type) 10 

604 Madcap Violet (large type) 20 

242 The Three Feathers 10 

390 The Marriage of Moira Fergus, and The Maid of Killeena. 10 

417 Macleod of Dare 20 

451 Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart % 10 

568 Green Pastures and Piccadilly 10 

816 White Wings: A Yachting Romance 10 

826 Oliver Goldsmith 10 

950 Sunrise: A Story of These Times 20 

1025 The Pupil of Aurelius 10 

1032 That Beautiful Wretch 10 

1161 The Four MacNicols 10 

1264 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in the Highlands 10 

1429 An Adventure in Thule. A Story for Young People 10 

1556 Shandon Bells 20 

1683 Yolande 20 


H THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. — Ordinary Edition. 


CHARLOTTE, EMILY, AND ANNE BRONTE’S WORKS. 

3 Jane Eyre (in small type) 10 

396 Jane Eyre (in bold, handsome type) 20 

162 Shirley 20 

311 The Professor 10 

329 Wuthering Heights 10 

438 Villette 20 

967 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall . / 20 

1098 Agnes Grey 20 

MISS M. E. BRADDON’S WORKS. 

26 Aurora Floyd 20 

69 To the Bitter End 20 

89 The Lovels of Arden 20 

95 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

109 Eleanor’s Victory 20 

114 Darrell Markham 10 

140 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 20 

190 Henry Dunbar 20 

215 Birds of Prey 20 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

251 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

254 The Octoroon 10 

260 Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

287 Leighton Grange 10 

295 Lost for Love 20 

322 Dead-Sea Fruit 20 

459 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

469 Rupert Godwin 20 

481 Vixen 20 

482 The Cloven Foot 20 

500 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

519 Weavers and Weft 10 

525 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

539 A Strange World I 20 

550 Fenton’s Quest 20 

562 John Marchmont’s Legacy 20 

572 The Lady’s Mile 20 

579 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

581 Only a Woman (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

619 Taken at the Flood 20 

641 Only a Clod 20 

649 Publicans and Sinners 20 

656 George Caulfield’s Journey 10 

665 The Shadow in the Corner 10 

666 Bound to John Company; or, Robert Ainsleigh 20 

701 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery 20 

705 Put to the Test (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part 1 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part II 20 


TEE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Ordinary Edition . in 


MISS M. E. BRADDON’S WORKS.-Continued. 

811 Dudley Carleon 10 

828 The Fatal Marriage 10 

837 Just as I Am; or, A Living Lie 20 

942 Asphodel 20 

1154 The Misletoe Bough 20 

1265 Mount Royal 20 

1469 Flower and Weed 10 

1553 The Golden Calf 20 

1638 Married in Haste (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

RHODA BROUGHTON’S WORKS. 

186 “Good-Bye, Sweetheart” 10 

269 Red as a Rose is She 20 

285 Cometh Up as a Flower 10 

402 “Not Wisely, But Too Well” 20 

458 Nancy 20 

526 Joan 20 

762 Second Thoughts 20 

WILKIE COLLINS’ WORKS. 

10 The Woman in White 20 

14 The Dead Secret 20 

22 Man and Wife 20 

32 The Queen of Hearts 20 

38 Antonina 20 

42 Hide-and-Seek 20 

76 The New Magdalen 10 

94 The Law and The Lady 20 

180 Armadale 20 

191 My Lady’s Money 10 

225 The Two Destinies 10 

250 No Name 20 

286 After Dark 10 

409 The Haunted Hotel 30 

433 A Shocking Story 10 

487 A Rogue’s Life 10 

551 The Yellow Mask 10 

583 Fallen Leaves 20 

654 Poor Miss Finch 20 

675 The Moonstone 20 

696 Jezebel’s Daughter 20 

713 The Captain’s Last Love 10 

721 Basil 20 

745 The Magic Spectacles 10 

905 Duel in Herne Wood 10 

928 Who Killed Zebedee? 10 

971 The Frozen Deep 10 

990 The Black Robe 20 

1164 Your Money or Your Life 10 

1544 Heart and Science. A Story of the Present Time 20 


IV 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. —Ordinary Edition. 


J. FENIMORE COOPER’S WORKS. 


222 Last of the Mohicans 20 

224 The Deerslayer 20 

226 The Pathfinder 20 

229 The Pioneers 20 

231 The Prairie 20 

233 The Pilot 20 

585 The Water- Witch 20 

590 The Two Admirals 20 

615 The Red Rover 20 

761 Wing and-Wing 20 

940 The Spy 20 

1066 The Wyandotte . 20 

1257 Afloat and Ashore 20 

1262 Miles Wallingford (Sequel to “ Afloat and Ashore’’) 20 

1569 The Headsman; or, The Abbaye des Vignerons 20 

1605 The Monikins 20 

1661 The Heidenmauer; or, The Benedictines. A Legend of 

the Rhine 20 

1691 The Crater; or, Vulcan’s Peak. A Tale of the Pacific. ... 20 

CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

20 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

100 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

102 Hard Times 10 

118 Great Expectations 20 

187 David Copperfield 20 

200 Nicholas Nickleby 20 

213 Barnaby Rudge 20 

218 Dombey and Son 20 

239 No Thoroughfare (Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins) 10 

247 Martin Chuzzlewit 20 

272 The Cricket on the Hearth 10 

284 Oliver Twist 20 

289 A Christmas Carol 10 

297 The Haunted Man 10 

304 Little Dorrit 20 

308 The Chimes 10 

317 The Battle of Life 10 

325 Our Mutual Friend 20 

337 Bleak House 20 

352 Pickwick Papers 20 

359 Somebody’s Luggage 10 

367 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

372 Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices ; 10 

375 Mugby Junction 10 

403 Tom Tiddler’s Ground 10 

498 The Uncommercial Traveler 20 

521 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

625 Sketches by Boz 20 

639 Sketches of Young Couples 10 

627 The Mudfog Papers, &c 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. — Ordinary Edition. v 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS.-Continued. 

860 The Mystery of Edwin Drood 20 

900 Pictures From Italy 10 

1411 A Child’s History of England 20 

1464 The Picnic Papers 20 

1558 Three Detective Anecdotes, and Other Sketches 10 

1682 The Plays and Poems of Charles Dickens, with a few Miscel- 
lanies in Prose, now First Collected. Edited, Prefaced, 
and Annotated by Richard Herne Shepherd. First half. 20 
1682 The Plays and Poems of Charles Dickens, with a few Mis- 
cellanies in Prose, now First Collected. Edited, Pref- 
aced, and Annotated bv Richard Herne Shepherd. Sec- 
ond half 20 

WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF “ DORA THORNE.” 

449 More Bitter than Death 10 

618 Madolin’s Lover 20 

656 A Golden Dawn 10 

678 A Dead Heart 10 

718 Lord Lynne’s Choice; or, True Love Never Runs Smooth. 10 

746 Which Loved Him Best 20 

846 Dora Thorne 20 

921 At War with Herself 10 

931 The Sin of a Lifetime 20 

1013 Lady Gwendoline’s Dream 10 

1018 Wife in Name Only 20 

1044 Like No Other Love 10 

1060 A Woman’s War 10 

1072 Hilary’s Folly 10 

1074 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

1077 A Gilded Sin 10 

1081 A Bridge of Love 10 

1085 The Fatal Lilies 10 

1099 Wedded and Parted 10 

1107 A Bride From the Sea 10 

1110 A Rose in Thorns. 10 

1115 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

1122 Redeemed by Love 10 

1126 The Story of a Wedding-Ring 10 

1127 Love’s Warfare 20 

1132 Repented at Leisure 20 

1179 From Gloom to Sunlight 20 

1209 Hilda 20 

1218 A Golden Heart 20 

1266 Ingledew House 10 

1288 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

1305 Love For a Day; or, Under the Lilacs 10 

1357 The Wife’s Secret 10 

1393 Two Kisses 10 

1460 Between Two Sins 10 

1640 The Cost of Her Love 20 

1664 Romance of a Black Veil 20 






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1 YOLANDE. By William Black. 20 

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3 THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. By George Eliot 20 

4 UNDER TWO FLAGS. By “Ouida” 20 

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6 PORTIA. By “The Duchess’’ 20 

7 FILE No. 113. By Emile Gaboriau 20 

8 EAST LYNNE. By Mrs. Henry Wood 20 

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20 WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE. By Emile Gaboriau. 20 

21 SUNRISE: A STORY OF THESE TIMES. By William Black 20 

22 DAVID COPPERFIELD. By Charles Dickens. Vol. I.. 20 

22 DAVID COPPERFIELD. By Charles Dickens. Vol. II.. 20 

23 A PRINCESS OF THULE. By William Black 20 

24 PICKWICK PAPERS. By Charles Dickens. Vol. 1 20 

24 PICKWICK PAPERS. By Charles Dickens. Vol. II 20 

25 MRS. GEOFFREY. By “The Duchess” 20 

26 MONSIEUR LECOQ. By Emile Gaboriau. Vol. I. 20 

26 MONSIEUR LECOQ. By Emile Gaboriau. Vol. II 20 

27 VANITY FAIR. By William M. Thackeray 20 

28 IVANHOE. By Sir Walter Scott, Bart 20 

29 BEAUTY’S DAUGHTERS. By “The Duchess” 20 

30 FAITH AND UNFAITH. By “The Duchess” 20 

31 MIDDLEMARCH. By George Elig ; 20 


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